


You Don't Have to Be Sadistic to Be the Villain, but it Helps

by AntagonizedPenguin



Series: How Best to Use a Sword [7]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Also non-consensual, Blood, Cutting, Darkness, Discussions of Physical Torture, Dungeons, Everything in this is non-consensual let's be clear, Forced Rape, Generally Pretty Fucked Up, Graphic Rape, Graphic Torture, Hand Jobs, Knifeplay, M/M, Manipulation, Mind Games, Mistreatment of Prisoners, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Noncon knifeplay is basically just cutting honestly, Physical Torture, Psychological Torture, Rape, Rape of a Minor, Sadism, Stabbing, Which gets talked about, Which is to say one person being forced to rape another, forced circumcision, non-consensual anal sex, offscreen murder, power trips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2018-05-14 01:32:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 27
Words: 59,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5724478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntagonizedPenguin/pseuds/AntagonizedPenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The intrepid quest to vanquish the evil Sorcerer King once and for all...has failed. </p><p>Henry tried to kill Sam's father. An outsider might expect Sam to resent him for that and to extract his pound of flesh as retribution, now that Henry is chained up in his father's dungeon. Actually Sam isn't all that concerned about dad or retribution. He's kind of pleased with the whole thing.</p><p>Because now he has a toy to play with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story about a person with hardly any redeeming qualities being terrible to another person because he can. Basically nothing good happens in it. 
> 
> Grew from a bit of an experiment where I wanted to write a story without the use of any visual description. Not sure if I pulled it off as well as I would have liked, but I'm happy enough with the outcome.

It was dark, down in the dungeons. Sam liked that about them—it was freeing, knowing that nobody could see him when he was down here. He could do whatever he wanted and nobody would ever know. 

It helped that he wasn’t one of the dungeon’s guests. They probably didn’t appreciate the darkness quite so much as he did. 

He kept his right hand on the rough stone walls as he walked, counting one when he brushed a wooden door, and two when he passed another. He had to stop when he caught a splinter, which he pulled out with his teeth before moving on. When he got to the third door Sam stopped again, patting the door until he found the keyhole, retrieved the key from his belt. 

The door creaked when it opened, and slammed shut behind Sam with a heavy bang after he’d shuffled inside the cell. Chains clinked as the cell’s guest looked up, and the silence after that was hard and prickly. The guest had only been here for a day, but the cell smelled already and Sam wrinkled his nose. He shouldn’t have been surprised. 

“You’re just going to stand there?” A harsh, cracked voice sounded. “What, is that some kind of intimidation strategy?”

“No.” Sam said softly. “I came down to talk to you.”

“I’ve got nothing to say to you.” The voice spat. 

“I guess you wouldn’t.” Sam smiled. “I’m not going to hurt you, if that makes it less frightening.”

“Frightening? I’m not afraid of you.”

He might be, if he knew who Sam was. “If you say so. He’s going to be okay, by the way.” 

The voice was silent. Sam sat himself on the floor carefully. “The wound wasn’t as bad as it looked and the bleeding was stopped pretty quickly. He’s awake and moving around already. Did you really think you could kill the Sorcerer King with a crossbow?” Albeit a cleverly hidden one.

The silence turned sullen, and Sam smirked. “Are you hungry? They don’t always remember to feed prisoners every day, but I can make sure they bring you something at least once a day.” 

“Where are you holding my partner?” The voice demanded. “Tell me where he is.”

“What’s your name?”

“Where is he?”

“I’ll answer your question if you answer mine.” Sam said, leaning back against the wall. 

The silence filled with tension for a long minute, like a pig’s stomach filling with water until it burst. “Henry.” The name sounded despondent. 

“That’s a nice name.” 

“Where’s my partner?”

“Hm?” Sam smiled. “Oh, he’s being tortured to death somewhere. I wouldn’t spend too much time worrying about him. They decided that since he’s a lot older than you he must have masterminded the attack, so he’s being punished.” 

“Punished?” Henry’s voice hitched. “You can’t…just execute him. You don’t need to torture him.”

“Well, _I’m_ not torturing anyone.” Sam said, bored. “What did you think was going to happen? I suppose you thought you would kill the evil Sorcerer King and make the world a better place through his absence.”

“Of course we did.” Henry growled. “He kills people, conscripts people into his army, experiments on people. He’s a monster!”

“I know.” Sam knew all of that a lot better than Henry probably did. “Too bad nobody cares enough to stop him.” Rather, the terrain and the fact that this was a strategically unimportant area made it hard for the kingdom to justify a campaign prevented an attack. But Sam thought they could if they really wanted to. For a little while longer that possibility would be open, at least. After that, they would be sorry they hadn’t taken the opportunity. 

“We cared. Me and Terry cared.” 

“Well, now you’re in a dungeon and Terry’s had his tongue ripped out, so that was a pretty stupid ideal to act on, don’t you think?” 

The silence grew heavy again, angry. 

“Were you and Terry having sex?”

“No! What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“Just wondering. You were his apprentice or something. It would have been pretty normal.” Honestly, Sam didn’t think it was something to get upset about. 

“Well, we weren’t. We were just friends.” Henry’s voice cracked on the last word. 

“If you say so.” It didn’t really matter now anyway. Sam moved forward carefully, listening to the sound of Henry breathing, until he was right in front of him. He found Henry’s chest and ran his hands up it, up his arms to his wrists where they were manacled to the wall, then back down to his neck, and his face.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Touching you.” Sam ran his fingers over Henry’s face, getting an idea of the contours of his skull, the shape of his features. 

“Well, stop!”

“You don’t seem to understand that you’re the one chained to the wall and I’m the one with the key.” Sam said, tracing Henry’s eyes. Henry tried to move away but he could only move so far and Sam followed him. “That means I get to do whatever I want, and your attitude while I do it will determine how much you get fed.” 

Now the silence was sharp, punctuated by the intake of breath from Henry. He was afraid. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Just…kill me.” Henry said, his voice shaking a little. Sam hadn’t expected him to get that afraid that quickly. The dark did that to people, he thought. Even if they weren’t afraid of the dark, being in the dark made them afraid of other things. People were afraid of what they couldn’t see. 

Sam wasn’t afraid of what he couldn’t see. 

“Why would I do that?” Sam asked softly.

“Just kill me!” Henry barked. “Don’t…don’t fucking play with me like a cat with a mouse. Torture me like you’re doing to Terry, or just take my head off.”

“No.” Sam’s took his hand from Henry’s face, felt his way down Henry’s chest again, pausing at his waist. “I like your head. I bet you’re very pretty. I like the rest of you, too. I can tell that you spent a lot of time training and learning how to fight. You must hate that you’re chained up here, not able to move. I don’t know how to fight. Normally you would punch me if I did this, but you can’t and that must just be…terrible.” 

“What do you want from me?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” Sam smiled into the dark, quickly unlacing Henry’s pants. Henry made a sound and bucked back, slamming forward into Sam with sudden speed.

Sam held up a hand, called on his power, slammed Henry back into the wall and held him there. “Also, I’m a sorcerer too, so you really ought to be more polite.” 

Henry didn’t answer, but the silence was sharper than ever and Sam reached out, still holding Henry in place, and finished undoing his pants. He pushed them down around Henry’s hips. “The first time I got caught touching myself, the next day there was a girl in my room.” Sam said, tracing the outline of Henry’s penis inside his smallclothes for a second, before pushing those down too. “Which was very thoughtful of my father, but I was always afraid to tell him that I wanted a boy instead.” 

Dad didn’t want Sam having children, so he probably wouldn’t have cared. Still, Sam had kept that to himself. He didn’t need to give his father more reasons to be disappointed with him. He took Henry in his hand, considering the size of it and reaching down into his own pants for comparison. “I thought you were my age, but maybe you’re older than me.” He mused. Feeling around, Henry had more hair than he did, too. 

“So, what?” Henry’s voice was strained. “When you heard there was a boy in the dungeons you decided to sneak down here instead?”

“Pretty much.” Sam said, rubbing Henry slowly, pleased with how he got bigger and harder. “Although me coming down here wasn’t a secret—they were just going to let you starve to death, but I asked them to give you to me instead. I may have given the impression that I was going to torture you, but I’m not, really.”

Henry was pretty hard now. Sam found it kind of neat that he could get like that even though he didn’t want to. The body just sort of did whatever it wanted. And Henry’s body seemed to want Sam’s hand, even if Henry himself didn’t. He was hard as well, so Sam took a second to free himself from his pants, and started jerking them both in tandem. 

The silence was banished by the sound of both of them panting. Henry squirmed against the wall as if trying to get away. “You’re…you’re sick.” He panted. It sounded like he might be crying. 

That appealed to Sam and he felt himself tipping over the edge and carefully pointed his hard-on away from himself, shooting his seed onto Henry and down the back of his own hand. He didn’t want to make a mess on himself that he would have to explain if someone saw. 

Sam sat back, panting, paused in his efforts on Henry for the moment. That had been better than he’d expected—and Henry hadn’t even done anything except be there. Henry was panting too, and for just a moment Sam considered leaving him there like that, but that would be mean. So he resumed his pace, ignored the cramp that started to form in his hand and kept going until Henry made a strained noise and starting spurting his seed into Sam’s hand. Sam carefully pointed Henry towards his own belly to keep the mess minimal. 

“There.” Sam said, lifting the hand he’d been using on Henry and taking one tentative lick of the fluid there before wiping it all on Henry’s shirt. “I told you I wasn’t going to hurt you.”

“Fuck you.” Henry whimpered softly. Honestly he was acting as if Sam had _ripped_ his cock off instead of jerking it off. “I hate you.”

“I hope you change your mind about that.” Sam said, standing and doing up his pants. “I think we could be friends.”

“You want me to be your secret little toy.” Henry spat. “I’m going to tell everyone who walks by this cell what just happened. See how secret it stays.”

“Hm.” Sam thought about that. “I wish you wouldn’t. They might take you away from me and then they’d just kill you.”

“I’d rather die…”

“Why?” Sam interrupted. “Why would you rather die? If you’re alive you can escape. You can plan things. You can try to do something. You could even try to kill the Sorcerer King again, if that’s what you wanted. Or you could kill me, or chain me up and do whatever you wanted. But only if you’re alive.” The silence this time was like static, loaded and tense. “It’s better to be alive than to be dead.” 

Henry didn’t say anything, and Sam turned to leave, considered leaving Henry like that for fun, but waved a hand and his pants did themselves up. “I’ll make sure you get fed properly, and that you and your cell are cleaned every day. I’ll see you again soon.” He pulled the door open, the creak echoing through the dungeon. 

“What’s your name?” Henry asked, just as Sam was about to let the door close. 

“Sam.” He said, and the door closed behind him with a heavy thud. Sam locked it, listening to the metallic click. “And Henry?” He called, knowing Henry would hear him because there should be a little grate at the top of the door. “Next time you try to kill my father, do a better job, okay?”


	2. Villains Have More Fun than Heroes Anyway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuing adventures of Sam Being Terrible.

Sam smiled as the dungeon door thudded shut behind him. The cell smelled better today, though the air was still thick with Henry’s angry silence, punctuated by the occasional clinking of his chains and the pale sounds of his breathing. “Good morning, Henry.” 

It was sundown, but Henry had no way of knowing that. 

Henry didn’t answer, and Sam moved forward slowly, searching with his foot. Eventually he kicked something and he stopped. “Are you going to behave today, or do I need to pin you to the wall again?”

There was no answer, but Sam hadn’t expected one. He moved forward.

The kick that took him in the stomach was unexpected and Sam fell back, doubled over and coughing in pain. He flicked a finger and slammed Henry against the wall, and despite the pain smiled at the startled noise he heard. “That was good.” Sam said, gasping for breath and still clutching his stomach. “Good aim, even in the dark.”

“I’m not going to make it easy for you.” Henry spat. “Not just going to let you do whatever you want with me.”

“I’d be bored if you did.” Sam told him, bringing himself to a sitting position. “They’re feeding you properly, right?” Henry didn’t answer that, and Sam sighed. “They’re not? I’ll kill the maids and get some new ones to bring you food, don’t worry.”

“No, don’t do that!” Henry actually sounded frightened. Maybe he liked the maids. “They’re feeding me enough. You don’t need to go out of your way to be a monster.”

“No, I don’t.” Sam agreed. “What’s the problem if I want to kill them, anyway? They’re evil maids, who work for my evil father in our evil castle. Don’t you want to see them brought to justice?”

“You probably forced them to work for you.” Henry grumbled. “Besides, you just murdering people isn’t justice. If you want to kill someone, kill yourself.” 

“Wouldn’t you rather I killed dad first?”

“I’ll do that.” 

“I hope so.” Sam patted Henry’s foot. “One of us is going to have to and he’ll expect it coming from me.” 

Henry just huffed and didn’t answer, which Sam thought was interesting. “You aren’t going to ask me about your friend? I am your only link to what’s happening outside this cell. Unless the maids are telling you things, in which case…”

“They’re not, God.” Sam could feel Henry straining against the magic that held him tight to the wall. “Is he still alive?”

“Yes. He’s holding on quite stubbornly; we’re all very impressed. Normally people give up after the first little while, but it looks like he wants to tough it out until the end.” 

“Of course he does.” Henry’s voice was strained now. “He’s a better man than any of you could hope to be.”

“The last two days we’ve told him that we’ll go easy on him if he asks. He’s said no both times.” Sam went on, shifting a little closer to Henry and rubbing his leg. “Do you think it’s because we told him we’d torture you his share if he wanted us to? He’s taking on twice the pain to protect you, isn’t that interesting?” That had been Sam’s idea. 

“You…” Henry’s voice quavered and he didn’t say anything else. 

“Don’t worry, we won’t actually torture you; we’re just waiting to see how long before he breaks and tells us he’d rather have us burn your fingers off than his.” 

“He won’t.” Henry whimpered, and Sam leaned in, getting closer to his face to find out if he was actually crying. “He won’t. He’s too good a man.”

“We’ll see.” Sam whispered, right in Henry’s face. “Nobody’s that good.”

“He is.”

“I bet you aren’t.” Henry wasn’t crying, he was pretty sure, and Sam frowned. “I bet if I started flaying you right now you’d beg me to stop. I bet you’d beg me to do it to Terry instead.”

“No, I…”

“Of course you would.” Sam kept his voice low. “You already did. You dropped your sword well before he did when the guards surrounded you.”

“I got hit in the hand!”

“No, you didn’t. You didn’t want to get hurt, so you dropped your sword and hoped the guards would go easy on you.”

“I didn’t…” Henry’s voice cracked. 

“Nothing to be ashamed of.” Sam said. “I would have done the same. It just means you’re smarter than he is, that’s all. After all, you’ll notice that you giving up got you this nice cell and him fighting on and killing four more guards got him a torture rack.”

“I…” A small sob broke through the air and Sam grinned. “I hate you.” 

“I know.” Sam leaned forward and licked Henry’s tears from his cheeks before pulling back. “Don’t worry, we’re friends. I’ll teach you to like me.” 

“We’re not friends!” 

“Of course we are. It’s not like you can afford to be choosy at the moment, you know?”

“I’m going to kill you.” Henry cried. “I’m going to get out of here and kill you, and your bastard of a father, and avenge Terry.”

“Good. Though you’ve got it a little backwards. Dad’s parents were married in the eyes of God when he was born. I’m the bastard.” 

“Going to kill you.” Henry whispered, his breath hitting Sam, and Sam thought he was talking to himself. “Going to kill you.”

“Oh, Henry.” Sam patted Henry’s damp cheek. “You just don’t understand. I’m the one protecting you. Frankly, you should be grateful I’m not trying to kill your parents in payment for you trying to kill mine. What are your parents’ names, by the way?”

“They’re dead already.” Henry’s voice got hard all of the sudden. “You fuckers killed them. That’s why…”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Sam said sincerely. He patted Henry’s chest and moved away. “I was looking forward to killing them in front of you. I would have given them the option of dying or watching me break you. If they’re any kind of parents you know what they would have picked. I don’t suppose you’ve got any siblings?”

“You’re sick.” Henry sobbed. “You’re sick.” 

“So that’s a yes, is it?”

Henry shouted at him, a wordless scream that startled Sam. “Get out.” Henry rasped. “Leave me alone.”

“No, I don’t think I will. Here, I’ll be quiet for a while, will that help?” Sam moved to the other side of the cell and sat against the door, releasing the magic and hearing Henry slump to the ground in a clink of chains. He undid his pants and started touching himself, listening to Henry cry. 

Even after he finished Sam sat there for a while, enjoying the sound.


	3. Evil Always has a Philosophy to Support Itself with

“I have a question for you.” Sam said into the sharp silence of Henry’s cell. Today he sat beside the door and spoke softly, not touching Henry at all. 

Henry didn’t answer, but that was expected. Sam listened to his chains clink for a second before continuing. “There’s a house with a family in it. Father, mother, an adult daughter. There are raiders outside the house saying you have to send someone out to them to be killed and they’ll leave the other two alive. Who do you send out?”

The silence buzzed with confusion and Henry didn’t answer. 

“If you don’t send someone out they’ll all be killed.” Sam added.

“I’m not playing games with you.” Henry spat.

“Oh? You’d rather move right to the part where I touch you? Okay.” Sam stood, careful to make enough noise that Henry could hear him clearly. 

“That isn’t what I said, you sick fuck.” 

“Then play a game with me.”

Henry made a deep-throated noise. “I’d go out.”

“Who said you were in the house?”

“You did. If I’m sending someone out, I must be in there too. I’d go out and fight them.” 

Sam’s mouth ticked upwards into a smile. Henry wasn’t totally stupid. “Alright, fine. There are rather a lot of them, so unless you can single-handedly kill ten armed raiders, you die and then they kill the family in punishment for breaking the rules they’d set.”

“Not if I kill them all first.” Henry growled.

“You’d rather kill ten people than one person?” Sam asked. “Or, I suppose, it’s because the raiders are bad people, so they don’t count. What a strange way to value human life.” 

“It’s not. We’re supposed to protect good people, and weak people, from those who want to harm them. It’s our duty as humans.” 

“So the three men in the raiders’ group who are only there because it was the only way to protect their own families, their lives are less important than the people in the house?”

The silence returned for a moment. “You don’t get to just make things up after I’ve decided. That’s cheating.”

“That’s the way the world works.” Sam corrected. “Bad people are rarely bad because they’re evil, it’s usually for a reason they think is good. The guards you killed on your way to kill my father, for example, were mostly just people who needed money. You two had to have known that when you killed them.”

“We did.” Henry admitted, sullenly. “But it…the sacrifice was worth it to kill a bigger evil. Unless you’re going to try to tell me your father only tortures and experiments on people because of some secret noble reason?”

“No, it’s because he’s crazy and likes to hurt people.” Sam admitted, though that wasn’t the whole reason. “But that’s not what I’m interested in—the guards, they’re a necessary sacrifice to destroy the greater evil. So it’s okay to kill, say, ten decent people if it helps save ten thousand?”

Now Henry was silent for a long time, the sound of his breathing filling the cell like a metronome. “No. It’s not okay, but if it’s the only way, then you have to do it anyway.” 

“So if I gave you a sword, put you in a room with ten people and told you to kill one of them and I’d let the other nine go, otherwise I kill all of them, you’d pick one and kill him?”

“What the hell are you asking me all this for?” Henry demanded, his words sharp. “Is there a point?”

“I’m trying to find out what kinds of things you believe in.” Sam told him. “You’re wrong about a lot of things and I want to know why so I can help you fix that.”

“I’m not—”

“The house.” Sam interrupted. “You aren’t there. Who do you pick to send out? It should be okay to kill one person to save two more, right?”

Henry exhaled sharply, and Sam wondered if he was thinking about the dragons his breath brought to mind, breathing fire on things. “Fine. The father.”

“Why?”

“The raiders are less likely to rape him to death.” Henry muttered.

“Interesting.” Sam thought about that. “The least possible amount of suffering?”

“Yes. Skip the part where you tell me that’s stupid. Who do you pick?”

Sam smiled. “The daughter.” 

Henry laughed, a breathy, forced sound. “The most possible amount of suffering?”

“No, as a matter of fact.” Sam tilted his head as if to listen to something, but there were no sounds beyond the normal dripping of water, the occasional shuffle and clink from the other prisoners, the scuttle of insects or vermin. “The raiders are most likely to rape her to death. It likely distracts them so the parents can escape. Besides, the parents can have another child.” 

“It…it doesn’t work like that!” Henry demanded. “People aren’t…toys. You can’t just throw them out to distract people, and then replace them!”

“Of course you can.” Sam said. “There will always be more people. Individuals are rarely worth anything—you admitted that yourself. You kill one person to save nine. My solution is identical to yours, only more likely to work. The raiders are going to set fire to the house when they’re finished anyway and you must have known that when I asked the question. At least this way someone survives.” 

“You’re wrong. You’re, you’re just wrong.”

“Maybe.” Sam chuckled. “I like hurting people too, so maybe. Or maybe you should stop thinking of the world like there’s a right way and a wrong way and nothing in between.”

“There is a right way to do things.”

“Of course. There are several, which is the point.” Sam said, glad that Henry seemed to be catching on. “Your first answer, where you go out and try to kill all the raiders? That was you treating people like toys too, don’t you think?”

“What? That was me saving the family.”

“No, you were gambling their survival on your ability to overpower ten people at once. If you’d lost, all of them would have died. If I was in that house I’d hate you for that.” 

“Even if I died, if I could kill a lot of them before I did, the family would be able to escape. If some of the raiders didn’t really want to be there like you said, they’d run if their team started losing, or maybe even turn on the others.” 

“And then what, you marry the daughter and live happily ever after?” Sam sneered, stood. “Fine, maybe that would happen. But I don’t believe you. You’re not willing to sacrifice yourself to protect others. You just like the sound of it when you say that.” 

“Of course I would sacrifice myself!” Henry’s voice grew hot. “It’s what you’re supposed to do!”

“Then why haven’t you?” Sam asked, reaching for the door handle. “I told you the other day about how we’re offering Terry the chance to lessen his torture by letting us hurt you instead. I kind of expected you would offer, but you didn’t.”

“What, no I…”

“It’s a nice thing to say, but when it was a real possibility for you, you didn’t even think of it.” Sam continued. “And that was the right thing—it means you’ll live longer and be hurt less. It’s the decision I would have made.”

“Don’t pretend that you and I are the same!”

“Of course not. Not yet, at least.” Sam opened the door and stepped partway out. “He took the offer this morning, by the way.” 

“W…what?”

“Terry. This morning when we offered to go easy on him, he took the offer. We showed him the centipedes, so that may have been why.” 

The silence grew heavy, solid. “You’re…you’re lying. He wouldn’t do that.” Henry’s voice was a whisper, hoarse. 

Sam smiled. “Believe whatever you like. Goodnight, Henry.”

“You’re lying!” Henry yelled after Sam as the door screamed shut. “You’re lying!” 

Henry’s accusations followed him out of the dungeon, and Sam just walked through the darkness, smiling.


	4. Villains Lie, Except when the Truth is Worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things continue to get worse.

“Today we’re going to play a game called ‘don’t lie.’” Sam said when he came into the cell. “Sound fun?”

“Sounds like something you’d lose right away.” Henry said, and it seemed like he’d given up that sullen silence of his, which was fine with Sam. Forcing him to talk every day had started to get boring. 

“When do you think I’ve lied to you?” Sam asked, honesty in his voice. “You’re completely within my power. What cause do you imagine I’d have to tell you anything but the truth?” 

Henry made a huffing sound. “Do you need a reason? You’re a psychopath and you spend all your time thinking of ways to hurt me.”

“Don’t be so self-centered, Henry.” Sam chided. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re not my one and only. I spend a significant amount of time thinking of ways to hurt other people too. And often I hurt people without planning it in advance. For example, on the way here I decided I wanted to break someone’s fingers, so I did that to the next maid I met. So you’re welcome.”

“What? Why would you…”

“Well, if I hadn’t met her I might have broken _your_ fingers instead, so you’re welcome. I’ve been trying hard not to break your body, since I like it so much, so it was good that I worked that urge out before I got here.” Sam actually did think, quite frequently, about all the ways he wished he could hurt Henry, all the ways he could break him. He wanted to lick Henry’s blood from his skin, take Henry to his room and flay the skin from his feet, cut him open and find out what his insides felt like. He wanted to hurt and hurt and hurt Henry until Henry couldn’t do anything but beg Sam to hurt him some more. But he couldn’t. 

Not yet. 

“Psychopath.” Henry said, and it was a whisper. “You’re a fucking psycho.”

“Hm.” Sam sat down on the floor in front of Henry. “That’s no way to talk to your friend.” 

“We’re not friends.” Henry spat.

Sam sighed. It was taking Henry a long time to figure this out. Maybe Sam should give him hints. “So are you going to play my game?”

“Are you going to rape me if I don’t?” Henry asked, and Sam smiled because that was the first time Henry had used that word. 

“Yes.”

“Are you going to rape me if I do?” 

Sam laughed. “Probably.” 

“Then fuck off.”

“Isn’t probably better than definitely?” Sam asked. “Don’t you want at least the chance to not be hurt? But then, I guess giving up is something you do a lot of, isn’t it?”

The sharp exhalation of Henry’s breath was Sam’s only answer. Sam smiled some more. “Fine. How about this—if you play with me, I won’t touch you today.” 

“You’re full of shit.” The sneer in Henry’s voice was pretty plain. 

“Remember before when I said I didn’t lie?” Sam asked, shifting on the stone. “Play with me.” 

“No.” 

Sam tapped his finger impatiently against the floor. “Dad’s in a bad mood today.” He said finally. “I don’t want to go back upstairs until he’s over it.”

“You’re afraid of him?”

“Of course I am—I’m not stupid. I used to have a lot more siblings than I do now, you know.” 

“The world’s better off without them.” Henry muttered, but Sam caught a tone of regret in that. It would have been awfully out of keeping, he thought, for Henry to be happy at the deaths of children. 

“Probably.” Sam agreed. Most of his siblings had been pretty awful. “Now play with me or I’m going to pass the time in a more fun way.” 

The silence buzzed as Sam waited for Henry’s response. “Fine.” He finally said. “‘Don’t lie?’ The truth is I hate you and I hope you die in a fire. Happy?”

“Yes.” Sam smiled. “The rules are if you tell a lie, I get to punish you. We can take turns asking questions.” 

“And what’s to stop you from lying?” 

“My conscience.”

“Do you even have one?”

“Yes.” Sam wasn’t entirely sure what a conscience consisted of. It sounded to him like a voice in your head that told you not to do bad things—and unlike some of his departed siblings, he’d never heard any voices in his head that he knew of (though who knew, maybe some of the voices that talked to him throughout the day were secretly not real). Sam kind of assumed that meant he’d never done anything bad enough to warrant being told off by some mystical moral concept. “That was your first question. It’s my turn now.”

Henry’s annoyed huff was his only answer. “Have you ever had a pet?” 

Sam could almost hear Henry’s surprise in the silence. Not what he’d been expecting, apparently. “I used to have a cat named Sparkles.” 

“Sparkles is a stupid name for a cat.”

“My sister named her.” Henry’s mouth audibly snapped shut at that and Sam smiled. So Henry had a sister—or had had one, anyway. He wondered if she was still alive. 

If she was, she wouldn’t be for much longer. “Your turn.”

“Do you have any friends at all—real ones, not people you’ve chained up to torture?”

Sam thought about that. “I don’t see why you don’t think people I’ve chained up to torture can’t be my friends, but going with that stipulation, no. There is a boy who’s a little younger than me working as a servant here in the castle. He’s awfully nice to me, I think he feels bad for me. His name’s Todd. I’d like it if I could get to know him better, but I think he’s also afraid of me. How do you convince people not to be afraid of you?”

“Is that your question?”

Sam’s lip quirked upwards. “Sure.”

“Normal people don’t need to convince anyone not to be afraid of them.” Henry said. “Most people aren’t afraid of us because we don’t rape and torture people for fun.”

“Ah.” Sam thought about that. “So it’s a perception of weakness. They don’t feel threatened by you, so they aren’t afraid. Interesting.” That seemed like something that might work with Todd. Sam would have to give it a try.

Henry just sighed. “Of course you don’t get it. I almost forgot you’re a lunatic.”

“It’s your turn.”

“Has anyone ever raped you?”

Oh, he was trying to get to the bottom of Sam’s troubled psyche as a method of getting control over his own situation. Wasn’t that clever. And adorable. Sam resisted the urge to rub his hands together. “Yes.” He lied. “My father used to give me to one of the guards when I misbehaved. Sometimes he even watched.” In reality, dad had only ever threatened to do that, because Sam had never been stupid enough to push him to find out if he were bluffing or not. 

“That’s terrible.” Henry whispered.

“He’s a pretty terrible person.” Sam agreed. “Have you ever been with anyone besides me?”

There was a long pause before Henry answered. “No.” That one word was awfully heavy.

“Good. I don’t believe in sharing.”

“If…if we had killed him, your dad, what would you have done?” 

“Hm.” Sam thought about that. He wasn’t in the habit of thinking of things that hadn’t happened. “Thanked you, probably. Then executed you both.” 

Henry laughed harshly. “I’ll add gratitude to the list of things you don’t get.” 

“I might still have taken you prisoner.” Sam said, still considering. “Though I’d have kept you in my room rather than the dungeon.” 

“I’ll consider myself lucky then.”

“You’re funny.” Sam sat back. “Are there people who are going to come look for you? Friends, family?”

Henry was quiet for a while this time before answering. “No.”

“Because they’re all dead or because they don’t care?”

“It’s not your turn anymore.” Henry growled. 

“Fair enough.” Sam said, leaning back with a smile. 

“How many siblings do you have?”

“Living? Three.” Sam wondered if Henry was asking that as a way of getting information on how many sorcerers might be living here in the castle. That would be probably the first smart question he’d asked. “Two sisters and a brother. None of them are here, though.”

Henry snorted. “Let me guess, they all ran as far as they could?” 

Sam held back a chuckle. “My oldest sister did. The other two are running errands for dad.”

“Guess you’re not useful enough to run errands, are you?” Henry asked with a sneer. 

“No, not really.” Sam stretched his arms. “That was three questions. Now I get to ask three.” A light huff was the only answer. “How come, when you had me in a position where I had to tell the truth, you never asked about Terry?”

The stricken silence that followed his question sent a thrill through Sam. “I…” Henry stuttered and trailed off. 

“You’ll incur a punishment if you don’t answer the question.” Sam told him. 

“Tell me about him.” Henry’s voice was strained. Sam thought he probably already knew what he was going to be told. 

“That’s not an answer.” 

“I…I didn’t think of it, that’s all. I just…”

“You’re lying.” Sam said, sitting up and leaning forward. He pulled a small knife and tapped it against Henry’s throat just once, just so he would know what it was, just to get that little shock of fear that he liked. Then he reached down to Henry’s shirt collar and started cutting down the centre of the fabric. “You didn’t ask because you don’t care. Or maybe because you were scared of the answer. But you thought of it.” 

“Fuck you.” Henry whimpered. 

“So you aren’t even going to deny it?” Sam asked, finishing his cut and starting on the sleeves to get Henry out of the shirt completely. 

“What did you do to Terry?” 

“It’s not your turn.” Sam said harshly, finishing with the shirt and tossing the rags aside. He stepped back. “I have two more questions. Why’d you drop your sword the day you were captured?”

“I…” Sam could feel the force of Henry’s anger. “I got hit on the hand.” 

“You’re lying.” Sam repeated, with an exasperated noise. “You didn’t want to get hurt so you surrendered.” 

“I didn’t!” Henry’s voice rose. “I got hurt!”

“It’s not a hard game to play.” Sam sighed, crouching down and slicing through Henry’s belt with the knife, working the blade down a pantleg in one seamless cut. “It’s one thing to lie to me, Henry, but you’d be happier if you stopped lying to yourself.” 

“Like you’d fucking know. You’re the most deluded person I’ve ever met.”

“Am I?” Sam challenged. “I say what I think, I do what I want, I act on my desires and I don’t feel the need to apologize for any of it afterwards. You’d be happier if you were more like me.” 

“I’m nothing like you.” Henry spat.

Not yet, maybe. “Yes, you are. You’re just afraid to admit it is all. Don’t worry, I’m here to help.” Sam finished with Henry’s pants, tossed them aside as well. “Last question. If I let you out of here, told you what you needed to do to kill my father and escape, would you do it?”

“No.” Henry’s reply was definitive and rang through the small space. 

“Now that I believe.” Henry wasn’t smart enough to realize that Sam was his only ally. “Why not?”

“That was your last question. What have you done to Terry?”

“Hm.” Sam stood, tapping the knife against his wrist. “I don’t feel like playing anymore. Thanks for helping me pass the time, Henry.” 

“No!” Henry’s shout startled Sam a little. “You tell me what you did to him, you fucker!” His voice made it clear to Sam that he knew what he was going to hear. 

“I didn’t do anything to him.” Sam said, still tapping the knife. “And you’re in no position to tell me what to do. Try asking more politely.” 

A long silence stretched out between them, punctuated at first by the soft sound of Sam’s knife against his own skin, which he stopped when he accidentally cut himself. “Please.” Henry said finally, his voice carrying a harsh lilt of surrender. “Please, Sam. Tell me what’s happening to Terry. He’s my only friend.” 

“See, that wasn’t so hard.” Sam crouched down, now tapping he knife on Henry’s shin. “What are you going to do for me?”

“What?”

“You’re awfully unpleasant to me. Not just today. Why should I do you a favour? Give me something in return and I’ll tell you.” 

“You think I’m stupid, don’t you?” Henry whispered. “I see what you’re doing, you bastard.”

“I do think you’re stupid, but not because of that.” Sam said. “In your position, anyone would be easily manipulated by someone like me. You’re alone and scared. And you’re desperate to escape. And desperate to prove, to yourself as much as to me, that you’re a good person. That’d you’d have been willing to do for Terry what he did for you. And there’s a part of you that thinks maybe, maybe you deserve it. Maybe I should be hurting you, because you weren’t good enough and that’s why Terry got captured. You know it and he knows it, and if you hadn’t been here, maybe he’d have done better. Or if you’d been less of a coward and kept fighting, maybe things would be different.”

“Stop.” Henry said quietly. He was crying. “Just stop. Just…”

“What are you going to give me, Henry?”

“Whatever you want.” His voice cracked. “Whatever you want, Sam. Just tell me.” 

“Good answer, Henry.” Sam said, smiling. “Are you sure?”

“Yes! Just…” Henry broke off, quiet sobs interrupting the silence. 

“Okay.” Sam trailed the knife up Henry’s leg until he got to the smallclothes, then carefully cut those away too. “You’ll be much more comfortable without those dirty clothes on.” He said as they fell away. He bent down and took Henry’s boots as well, leaving him completely uncovered. 

Sam sat there for a minute, thinking carefully about what he wanted to do. He was uncomfortably hard in his pants, but decided against doing anything about that yet. He moved forward, slowly until he found Henry’s skin, sliding his fingers along Henry’s body until he found what he wanted. 

Henry was flaccid, so Sam started to play with him, willing him erect. It wasn’t easy and Henry made no noise at all while Sam worked, which was annoying. He liked the noises Henry made. He didn’t use his powers to restrain Henry today, trusting the chains to be enough, and Henry didn’t disappoint in that, at least. True to his word he just sat there, let Sam do what he would. 

When Sam leaned forward and popped Henry into his mouth he was rewarded with a hiss. Despite his best effort Henry was soon getting hard in Sam’s mouth. 

“This is my first time doing this.” Sam admitted, pulling away for a second. “I’ve had it done to me, though, so I like to think I know a thing or two. Still, I appreciate the opportunity to practice.” 

Henry didn’t answer, but his breathing was audible now, coming heavy from his mouth. Sam went back at him, sucking Henry to full hardness and working it up and down with his tongue, paying particular attention to the head. Henry whimpered. Sam didn’t make any effort to keep his teeth clear, and knew he scraped Henry a few times, but Henry never complained. 

Henry’s breath started to come in sharper spurts, light gasps. Sam smiled, pulling off his cock and standing, leaning in to kiss Henry on the mouth. Henry flinched back despite himself and Sam smiled, pursued him. Just a quick peck on the lips and Sam grabbed hold of Henry’s length, slowly stroking him to completion while Sam grinded himself fully clothed against Henry’s leg.

When Henry’s entire body tensed, Sam leaned in further and whispered in Henry’s ear. “Terry died three days ago. His last words were an apology to you.” 

The cry that Henry gave when he came was so beautiful that Sam did the same, right in his pants. It was a strained sound that tasted of pain and conveyed so much guilt. When Henry was finished, he hung there softly whimpering, and Sam’s finger found tears running down his face. “We tossed his body in the centipede pit. It doesn’t take them very long to devour a person.” 

“Stop…” Henry cried. “Please stop.” 

“I’m answering your question, that’s all. We gave his sword to the captain of our guard…” 

“Please just stop. It’s enough, that’s enough. No more, please.”

Sam’s favourite thing to listen to was the sound of Henry crying. But Henry begging, he thought, was a solid second. “You asked me for information. I’ll tell you everything we did to him, in as much detail as I can remember.” 

“No…”

“No, please…I can’t. I can’t, Sam.”

“You’d be surprised what you can do, Henry.” Sam said, sitting beside him and getting comfortable. Quietly he reached out and hid the knife in the pile of Henry’s clothes in the corner. “The first thing we did was drip boiling water into his eyes until he begged us to take them out…”

Sam had to pause in his telling twice to relieve the terrible hardness that Henry’s pleading and tears were causing in him.


	5. Pride has Little Place in Desperation and None in Survival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never really know what to say for commentary on this story. Bad things happen, and are going to continue happening for a long while. As a writer I really enjoy working on Sam because he's interesting, but as a person I hope he falls off a bridge or something, haha.

“Why don’t you ever bring a torch with you?” Henry asked when Sam came into the cell today. 

Sam didn’t answer right away, admittedly a little thrown. Henry hadn’t said two words to him, no matter what he’d done, since Sam had informed him of Terry’s death two weeks ago. He’d been just on the verge of doing something he would have regretted to make Henry start speaking again. 

But it seemed like Henry had finally come to his senses, at least. Or maybe he was just trying a different strategy, Sam thought. That could be fun. 

“Maybe I don’t need one.” Sam said after a minute, sitting himself down by the door. 

“Bullshit.” Henry muttered. “You don’t want me to know what you look like. I bet it’s because you’re hideous or something.” 

“Hm.” Sam hummed. He had no idea, honestly. “It’s because I don’t need a torch, that’s all.” 

“I’m not stupid.”

“You kind of are.”

“You’re doing it to scare me. Like, the monster in the dark or whatever—people are afraid when they can’t see what’s in front of them. It’s just one of your little mind games.”

“Is it working?” Sam asked, curious. He was a little surprised that Henry had picked up on that. 

“No.” The one word was harsh and grating. 

“No, of course it isn’t.” Sam said thoughtfully. “You’re too brave and strong to be scared of something as silly as a monster in the dark.” He paused. “It’s only when you’re fighting that you get scared.”

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe in a bit.” Sam agreed. Henry’s chains clinked. “Would you like me to start bringing a torch?” 

Maybe he could burn some of Henry’s skin off—not too much, but a little. It might be fun. 

“I don’t care what you do. You’re using magic to see me anyway.”

“Nope.” 

“Liar.”

“Nope.” Sam repeated. “I’m just not afraid of the dark, Henry. That’s all.” 

“Of course you aren’t.” Henry spat. “You’re probably right at home in it, with all the other rats and bugs.” 

Sam smiled. “Cute. What exactly do you hope to gain by being antagonistic?” Henry didn’t answer right away, so Sam continued. “I’ve wondered this for a while. You do understand that you’re the prisoner here, right? And garnering sympathy is a good way to plan an escape? And yet all you’ve done since you got here is call me names and be rude to me.” 

“I wonder the fuck why.” 

“I do too.” Sam admitted. “I mean, the one time you politely asked me for something, I gave it to you. It stands to reason I’d do it again if you were to ask again. And yes, maybe it didn’t go entirely the way you wanted, but that’s only because you didn’t consider the consequences of what you were asking me. And for all that, here we are. You still being mean to me.”

“You…” Henry bit back whatever he’d been about to say, which Sam thought was an improvement.

“And if I’m being honest, you sound angry and all, but it seems fake to me. Like you’re pretending to be mad because that’s what you’re supposed to be—it seems to me like you’ve just given up. Again. Was Terry really the only reason you were going on living?” 

Henry didn’t answer that. 

“It’s a little disappointing.” Sam sighed. “I just…I want to kill my dad, and I was hoping you’d help me.” 

The silence that fell between them was thunderous. It swelled, filling the small space until it must be seeing into the cracks in the mortar and between the bars in the door. Sam didn’t break it this time, just sitting there and listening to it. 

“What?” Henry whispered, after what had seemed like a long time. 

“Nevermind.” Sam sighed, affecting weariness. He stood, making sure that Henry could hear him brushing against the stone. “I’ll just find someone else.” 

Sam credited Henry for having the self-control to wait until the door creaked open to say “Wait.” 

Sam smiled.

“What now?” He asked Henry, hand still holding the door. “Did you think of some new names to call me?” 

“Stay.” 

That sounded like an order. Sam stood still, waiting. 

“Please.” 

“Why?”

“Because I…” Henry faltered. “Because I need your help. Because you said you wanted to be my friend. Because…” 

Well, it was about time, Sam thought. Still. “When in our time together have I given you the impression that I’d be moved by some insipid plea to my sentimentality?”

Henry made an irritated noise. “Fine. Because you need my help, then. Because otherwise you’ve wasted all the time you’ve spent on me so far. Because I got within crossbow distance of your father the first time and I can do it again.” 

“And all I need to do is supply the crossbow?” Sam asked. “Still, that’s a much more honest answer, at least. I can understand you wanting to use me to your own ends. It took you long enough to come to that conclusion. Too long, actually—I’m starting to find you boring.”

“I can be interesting.” Henry said immediately, a touch of desperation in his voice, and Sam believed him because when people broke, they usually did it all at once.

“I find that hard to believe.” He said. “How do you plan to do that?” 

“I…” Sam could practically hear Henry casting around for something to say. “I’ll do whatever you want. Sam, I will. Just give me a chance to show you. Please.”

“Hm. So in exchange for using me, you’ll let me use you.” Sam let the door swing shut, came over and stood in front of Henry. A gesture opened the manacles that suspended him and Henry fell to the ground with a small grunt of discomfort. Sam put a foot on his head and held him there. “Ask again. In a way that convinces me you really want it, Henry.”

The sound of Henry swallowing was audible. “Please, Sam. I want you to use me. I won’t bore you, I swear. I’ll do whatever you want. I won’t complain about anything. Please, I’m begging you, keep using me. Keep…keep hurting me, Sam. Please. I want you to hurt me.” 

All at once, Sam thought, getting hard in his pants. Still, he kept his foot in place, didn’t say anything. 

“I’ll do everything you say. No matter what it is.” Henry was crying now. “I’ll be interesting. I’ll be useful, I swear I will. I promise, Sam…sir. I’ll be the best tool. I’ll be the best toy. Please, sir.”

Sam smiled, removed his foot. Henry made no move to get up, and Sam crouched down, lifted his head from the stone floor. “I’m surprised you didn’t choke on that pride as you swallowed it.” 

Henry’s only reply was a soft whimper. 

“I break everything I touch, Henry.” Sam said quietly. “I will destroy you. I will take everything that you are and I will grind it into nothing, until you are nothing but what I want you to be. I was planning to do that anyway, but you’ve made it easier. You can use me and it won’t hurt me, but me using you will be the end of you, because I will use you until you fall to pieces.”

“I don’t care.” Henry whispered.

“Oh, I don’t believe you.” Sam whispered back. “You’re saying what I want to hear so I’ll give you what you want. Which is a huge improvement in your attitude, but you don’t really believe that I’ll do what I say I will—you think you’re strong enough to resist, that you’ve held on to yourself all this time and can keep doing that forever.”

“No, I…”

“Why’d you drop your sword that day?”

Henry paused, with a little intake of breath. “Because I was afraid to get hurt.” He said in a small voice. 

Sam chuckled, reached down and unlaced his pants, pulled himself free and guided Henry towards his hardness. “Here, use your mouth.”

With a barely noticeable hesitation, Henry did as he was told, slipping his lips over Sam’s head, sucking him awkwardly but with little clear reluctance. 

Though Sam found he wasn’t as enamoured with that as the usual fighting back, combined with everything else it only took him a minute to shoot in Henry’s mouth. He fisted Henry’s hair to keep him in place while Henry swallowed it all without being told. Only then did Sam pull Henry off and drop his head to the floor. 

Standing, Sam laced up his pants again and made his way to the door. He decided to leave Henry unchained. He wasn’t a threat to anyone as it stood. 

“I’ll think about it.” Sam said, leaving the cell with a creak and a slam.

On the other side of the door, Sam listened and heard Henry softly weeping, and whispering “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” over and over in the dark. 

Now, Sam thought as he walked away, they were getting somewhere.


	6. Pain Is a Means to an End; Real Torture is Always Mental

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a lot more brutal than usual, even for this story. Note the updated tags.

Sam let Henry stew for a week or so before he went back down to the dungeon. He let the door creak open and closed and then paused inside the cell for just a moment, listening. Henry wasn’t chained up anymore, which meant that Sam didn’t immediately know where he was. 

There, in the back corner. Probably curled up on the ground from the height of his breathing. Sam turned in that direction, but didn’t say anything. Henry shifted, moving. Sitting up. 

Sam took two steps to put in close to Henry and stood over him, stayed quiet. He wanted to find out what Henry would do, now that he was unchained, now that he’d had a week to think about what had happened last time Sam had been here. It was easy to make a decision in the moment, but hard to keep one’s resolve after a week with only one’s own brain as company. 

Sam had no intention of breaking the silence and the longer it went on, the clearer that became. Henry’s breathing started to pick up a little, in what tasted to Sam like fear. Maybe it wasn’t Sam standing in front of him. Maybe Sam had decided not to go through with their deal after all. Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

_Maybe_ was the most dangerous concept humans had ever conceived. 

Finally Henry couldn’t take it anymore. “S…Sam?” He asked, his voice wavering, weak. “Is…”

Sam brought his leg up and kneed Henry in the chin. Henry cried out, a wordless shout, and Sam reached down and slammed his head into the wall before pulling him forward by the hair and tossing him to the floor. 

Henry tried to catch his breath in shaky, gasping gulps, while Sam sought out Henry’s hand with his foot and stepped on it, putting his full weight on it. He nodded in satisfaction when he felt the bones start to give way under his feet, though Henry’s shout drowned out the sound they would be making, so he kicked Henry in the head to quiet him. 

Now Henry was just whimpering on the ground, and Sam smiled as he unlaced his pants. He moved around and, still searching with his foot and delivering kicks when he found something other than what he was looking for, made his way behind Henry. He crouched down and searched the rest of the way with his hands, not gently, probing and prodding until he was aimed where he needed to be. 

Henry was tense underneath him; he had to know what was coming. Sam ran his hand affectionately down Henry’s spine before shoving himself inside, grunting a little at the difficulty. Lubricant was important for more than just comfort, it seemed. 

Still, Henry’s pitiful little cries of pain were worth the hassle on Sam’s part. He pulled out and thrust in harder, got farther in, gasping at the sensation that ran through him. He needed somewhere to put his hands and so Sam reached up and grabbed the back of Henry’s head, gripping his hair and holding Henry’s face against the floor as he fucked him. His other hand wound up on Henry’s shoulder, and Sam thought he should have planned ahead and twisted Henry’s arm behind his back or something. 

He kept thrusting in and out, trying to get all the way in, tearing and breaking Henry inside as he focused on little else but that and the sounds Henry was making. Sam could feel himself building up, and up, and up as he got further and further in with every thrust and finally, with a long cry of his own, Sam managed to thrust all the way in just in time to shoot his climax into Henry. 

Still holding Henry in his place, Sam lay there for a moment, sweaty and out of breath. He might have liked it a little more if Henry had fought back a bit, he thought idly, but it had been fine without. Better than any of the girls dad had sent to him. 

Sam couldn’t quite help the satisfied noise he made as he pulled out of Henry and sat back. He pulled Henry with him, so that he was nearly sitting in Sam’s lap. Sam turned Henry’s head uncomfortably far back and kissed him, tasting Henry’s blood when he did. “I’m impressed that you didn’t resist.” Sam whispered in Henry’s ear. He held Henry with one hand and reached into his shirt with the other to take out a knife, his attention wavering just briefly to wonder if the one he’d left in here before was still there and if Henry had found it yet. 

“I…” Henry’s breath caught before he was able to get the rest of the answer out. “I told you I wouldn’t.”

“Don’t take that tone with me.” Sam chided. “But I won’t punish you for it since you’ve been so good.” He moved the knife around to Henry’s front and pressed the tip against Henry’s chest, making shallow cuts as he dragged it around the surface of the skin. When Henry didn’t say anything, he pressed a little harder. “Don’t you have anything to say to that?” 

“I…thank you.” Henry whispered, quivering, keeping the pain out of his voice. 

“Hm.” Sam shifted his grip so that his free arm was supporting Henry under his left shoulder, leaving his chest free. He kept pressing harder and dragged the knife downward, leaving a long cut as he went. “I’ve considered what you proposed last time. I’ve decided to give you a chance.” 

“Th…thank you.” Henry hissed as the knife moved over his stomach. 

“Look how polite you’ve gotten.” Sam muttered, and since Henry wasn’t resisting he brought his free arm down and over Henry’s belly, working his fingers into the cut and under the skin just to see if he could. “I bet you’d let me do whatever I wanted, wouldn’t you?” 

“Yes...” Henry whimpered. 

“Maybe we should test that.” Sam suggested, and the knife was well into Henry’s pubic region now. He stopped cutting and found Henry’s cock with it, scraping the blade along the shaft. “Maybe I’ll cut a few things off. You don’t need this part anymore, right?” 

Henry didn’t answer immediately and Sam waited for just a few seconds before pressing the knife harder against his skin. Finally he shook his head. 

“Words, Henry.”

“No.” He said, his voice cracking. “I don’t need it. Do whatever you want.” 

Sam smiled. “I will, don’t worry.” He pulled the knife away from Henry’s cock and back upwards, resting it against his throat. “But I like that part of you, so we’ll keep it attached for now. I may have use for it later.” 

“Thank you.” 

“It’s not a gift to you.” Sam whispered, and carefully, very carefully, he drew the blade across Henry’s throat, deep enough to draw blood but not enough to cut the major arteries. He didn’t want to kill Henry, especially not by accident. He enjoyed how still Henry got as he worked. “Everything that you have and everything that you are belongs to me, Henry. I can do whatever I want and you’re going to like it when I do.” 

Henry drew in a breath and nodded, his head moving against Sam’s chest. “I have to admit I still have my doubts about your sincerity. But that’s okay, we’re having fun and part of the fun is wondering whether you’re still secretly just waiting for me to be helpless for a moment so you can stab me to death.” Of course Henry still was. Sam wouldn’t have been interested in him otherwise. 

As he spoke he brought the knife away from Henry’s throat and lifted it, stabbing down and plunging the blade into the right side of Henry’s chest, right through the ribs and into the lung. Henry’s cry was choked off just when it started as he gasped for breath, trying and failing to bring in enough air to keep himself alive. He jerked in Sam’s arms a few times and Sam smiled, hard again. This feeling didn’t quite compare to before, but it was similar. 

“Don’t worry.” He whispered, pulling the knife out and discarding it, letting it clatter to the floor in a metallic dance that rang through the cell. Sam put a hand on Henry’s chest and opened himself to his magic. “Healing spells aren’t my best magic, but I know the principle.” 

He knew two healing spells, and the one Sam ran through Henry’s body was Chaos-aspected, and rather than going with the natural flow of the body and healing the wounds according to nature, which was how Order-aspected healing worked, it warped space and created a module of reality in which the injury wasn’t there. 

It was very painful to experience and Henry screamed as Sam healed him, all of his cuts and bruises and scrapes fading from his body at once. “There.” Sam said when he was done. Henry had gone stiff and now collapsed, panting. “I wasn’t entirely sure if that would work, actually. I’m glad it did—now I know I can do whatever I want to you for sure, as long as I don’t kill you. You’ll always be safe with me, no matter what I do to you.” 

Henry was still gasping for air and, with a hitch in his breath, he started weeping. Sam smiled and shifted a little, until he was lined up to fuck Henry again. Still sitting up, he forced himself back inside. All the tearing and injury he’d done before had healed up as well, which didn’t sit well with Sam—he wanted Henry to have that reminder, at least. 

His cum from before was still there, though, and that lubricated the way a little this time. Sam got all the way in with just a few thrusts. Henry was making an audible effort to control his crying and Sam bit his neck hard enough to draw blood before putting his lips to Henry’s ear again. “Don’t.” He whispered, as he rocked them back and forth. “Don’t make yourself stop crying. I love it when you cry, Henry, it’s my favourite sound.” 

Henry went completely silent for just a second at that, before letting out a low wail that spoke of a pain far more than the physical hurt Sam had done to him today. Sam smiled and kept on going, listened to Henry weep as he violated him in the dark.


	7. It's Impossible to Ever Truly Know What Another Person is Thinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter I thought I'd give a brief idea of what Sam's life if like outside of the dungeon and away from Henry...and then it turned into an intense 4000 word character study of Sam. I like how it turned out, actually, so hopefully everyone else will too.

The late afternoon sun warmed Sam’s face even as the slightly chill wind from the east blew through the rest of him, carrying the faint hint of ash and sulfur as it usually did. 

Sam liked sunsets. Not for the reasons other people did—people said they were beautiful, or romantic or other thing that was equally as vapid. People liked them because of what they looked like. 

When he’d been younger, Sam had wondered often what various things looked like. In the last few years he’d stopped caring. It didn’t really matter if a sunset painted the sky orange. It didn’t really matter what orange looked like, or what the sky looked like. He didn’t need to know those things. 

Sam liked sunsets because they brought darkness with them. And Sam didn’t know what darkness looked like either, but he knew it frightened people, made them dependant. They lit lamps and torches and carried them around to preserve their own fragile understanding of the world. They couldn’t function normally—they were hesitant, careful, willing to be led by anyone who knew where they were going.

In the dark, Sam knew everything. In the dark, Sam was a king. 

He was standing on top of the north tower in front of a large spell circle. Sam could feel its power thrumming in his head, smell the acrid taint it cast into the air. It was impatient. Teleportation spells were primarily Order-aspected, and Order was not a power that liked to wait. 

Sam wasn’t impatient. He was slowly counting in his head, and only when he reached one thousand did Sam sigh, reach out with his own power, activate the circle. The world seemed to snap and Sam heard a birds chirping, smelled rain and tasted grass, for just a second while the spell worked. 

“Oh.” The woman who’d just appeared on the tower said, and in that one word Sam heard surprise. She had a deeper voice than most women, one that rolled like a heavy stone. “You’re not who I was expecting.”

“I’m Sam. Usually you meet my brother. He’s not here anymore.” He’d been sent away for something more important than fetching visitors. 

“Is that so?” The woman asked, and Sam could tell she was looking him over. Maybe she was comparing Sam to his brother, or perhaps to their father. Maybe she was looking at his eyes, which weren’t focused on her, or on anything. “Very well. Pleased to meet you, Sam. My name’s…”

“Jocelyn.” Sam interrupted, turning away from her and her gaze and heading towards the edge of the tower five paces behind him. “I know.” He didn’t pause at the top of the staircase that spiraled around the exterior of the structure, taking the first step down. _One._ He counted. There were two hundred and twenty-nine steps. 

There was a staircase that went inside the tower as well, but it was getting dark so Sam used the outside one instead. Jocelyn followed him without complaint, as he’d known she would. “I thought I’d met all of Solomon’s children.” She commented as they started down. 

“You hadn’t.” Sam heard the faint sound of something sliding against the stone behind him and smiled to himself. Jocelyn was steadying herself, which Sam wasn’t. He could feel her power as well, a sort of humming that was so faint it was almost drowned out by the wind, and by the low buzz that accompanied it. Witches got their power from the earth, he recalled. Sam wondered if being high up made it hard for them to do magic. There was probably no height restriction on necromancy, though. 

“Not very talkative, are you?” Jocelyn asked. “I’m not taking you away from something important, am I?” 

She was, as a matter of fact. He’d been looking forward to seeing Henry tonight. But dad’s commands always came first. “Of course not. What would you like to talk about?” 

“Nothing in particular, but it’s an awfully long walk for silence, don’t you think?” Jocelyn lied. There was no way she wanted to talk about ‘nothing in particular.’ “I have a son about your age.” 

That wasn’t what she wanted to talk about. “The one you tried to kill or the one you corrupted?” 

Jocelyn laughed, and it was a nasty, dangerous sound that Sam liked quite a bit. “The one I tried to kill.”

“You and my father have that in common.” Sam observed.

“Did he tell you all about me and my family, or did you have to do research on your own?” 

Sam frowned. People often spoke to him with disbelief or surprise when he knew things. Jocelyn just sounded entertained. “I have a tutor.” There were one hundred and nine steps left. 

“And what else did your tutor tell you about me?”

“You also killed your sister, and your niece and your father.” The sister had been her brother’s wife, Sam thought.

“I’ve done other things.”

“I know, but the parts where you killed members of your family were the only parts I thought were interesting.” Sam admitted, and that was true. “Do you hold a baby to stab it to death, or did you put her on a table? Did she cry a lot?” 

“Yes. It was insufferable. What about you? Have you killed anyone interesting?”

“Not really.” Sam said with a sigh. “I think I have a niece somewhere, but I don’t know where she is and I’m probably not going to be able to kill her. I did kill one of my sisters when I was younger, but it was sort of an accident.” He wondered if Jocelyn would hear the last part, the part that he hadn’t said. The parallel he hadn’t drawn. 

“An accident, was it?” Jocelyn didn’t sound like she believed him. 

“She took a toy from me. I threw her at a wall. I didn’t mean to kill her.”

“Yes, you did.” 

Sam tilted his head, and chuckled. “Maybe. I was only six, so I didn’t really understand what death meant.” 

“Your father must have been unhappy about that.” Oh, Sam thought. Maybe she had noticed what he hadn’t said before. 

“She wasn’t born gifted with sorcery. I don’t think he cared.” Sam didn’t even remember what her name had been. 

They came to the bottom of the stairs and Sam took two steps, reached up just above his hip and grabbed the handle for the door, pulled it open and stepped inside. The door banged shut behind Jocelyn and a muffled silence fell around them with the wind blocked out. Sam led the way down the hall, fifty steps to another door. 

“Do you know what I’m here to talk to him about?” Jocelyn asked as they neared the second door. 

“I don’t care what you’re here to talk to him about.” Sam said.

“So you don’t know.” And there was that amused tone again. 

“In your years of working for—sorry, with—him, have you known him to share information freely?” 

“I guess I figured he would with his trusted son. Where is your brother, anyway?” 

“The northern capital, I think.” Sam said, knowing full well that dad wouldn’t have wanted him to answer that. They were in a hallway that they would need to follow for a hundred and four steps before turning left for another seventy-nine. 

“And what’s he doing there?” 

“Who cares?” Sam smiled to himself. “And yes, that does mean I don’t know.” Sam had a pretty good guess about what Saul was doing, but he wasn’t certain. 

Jocelyn laughed again. “Admitting when you don’t know something? You must have inherited that from your mother.” 

“I wouldn’t know, dad killed her.” At least, Sam assumed that was the case. He’d never met his mother and dad tended to kill women after he was done with them.

At step forty-three they passed by a doorway that hid a staircase which led to the dungeons. Sam wondered what Henry was doing right now. 

Jocelyn was silent until they had turned left into the other hallway. “I suspect you’d get along with my daughter.” She said. 

Sam snorted. “Do you think I’m stupid?” 

“I don’t.” Jocelyn said. “My apologies, allow me to rephrase. You should marry my daughter. She’s a little younger than you.” 

“I appreciate the suggestion.” Sam didn’t think Jocelyn’s daughter would, but that didn’t matter. “But I’ll pass.” 

“You could come live with us in the tropics, get away from this castle for a time. Your father would appreciate having a closer eye kept on us, I’m sure.”

“He wouldn’t care if you had me hostage.” Sam said. “If he wanted to kill you he’d do it just the same with me standing in front of you.” 

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“I know. You meant that I could help you unseat him.” Sam said. They were approaching a wide staircase with twenty steps. 

“And you just tried to tell me you weren’t stupid. Surely you don’t think I’d suggest such a thing here in his own castle?” The sincerity oozing from Jocelyn’s voice was sickening. 

“Of course not. You’re a loyal friend to him.”

“And you’re a loyal son.” 

“I’m glad we’re on the same page about this.” Sam said, counting the stairs as they went down. There were some servants in the room at the bottom, but he ignored them and they stayed out of the way. 

“Of course. Your father’s goals are my goals. I’d hardly want to interrupt him in achieving them.” Sam slowed, putting his hand out in front of him as they approached the door. He wasn’t sure if it would be open or not, but his hand met no resistance and so he kept walking as if nothing had happened. 

“Acting obsequious will get you nowhere with him.” Sam advised her. There was one last hallway here, just forty steps, that would lead to the sitting room where dad was waiting. Sam could feel his power from here, amplified by the stone he had with him, vibrating through the castle. He wondered if Jocelyn could feel it too. 

“Obsequious?” Jocelyn asked, sounding amused again. “Did your tutor teach you that word?” 

Sam felt his face heat up and found it annoyed him. “No. I’m not dependent on a tutor for everything. I’m not a child.” 

“Hm. You might wish to be a little more dependent, since you didn’t quite use it correctly.” 

The heat in Sam’s face increased, but instead of getting upset he laughed. “I like you.” 

“I’m flattered.”

“You wouldn’t be if you knew what happened to the people I liked.” Before the conversation could continue beyond that the door down the hallway creaked open and dad’s power got louder. 

“Jocelyn.” Dad said, a warmth that Sam knew wasn’t real. “So good to see you. I do hope my son didn’t bore you to death on the way here.” 

“Of course not, Solomon.” Jocelyn’s entire tone had changed, and it was just as fake as dad’s. She swept past him and Sam heard a kiss. “You’re looking well.”

“Thank you. If you don’t mind waiting inside, I’d like to have a quick word with Samson before we eat.”

“Of course.” Something told Sam that Jocelyn gave him a look before disappearing into the room. The door closed behind her and Sam was left in the hallway with his father, the vibrations from dad’s power setting Sam’s own power on edge from this close. 

Dad stood there silently for a moment and Sam stood in front of him with his head tilted forward in a mockery of someone looking at the floor. 

Sometimes they played this game for hours, dad just standing there watching Sam, waiting for Sam to break the silence when Sam knew he wasn’t supposed to speak until spoken to. Sam was patient, he’d learned to play this game a long time ago and could stay quiet all day if he had to. He stood completely still, not shifting around or fidgeting, not giving any hint that his heart rate was slowly picking up, keeping a firm grip on his power as it tried to buzz and crawl all around him. Jocelyn was in the room there, surely dad wasn’t going to make her wait all night. He only had to do this for a few minutes, a few minutes was easy. 

“You’re impatient, son.” Dad said after several minutes, and Sam frowned despite himself, trying to figure out what he’d done to give that impression. “Somewhere you’d rather be?” 

“Of course not, sir—” The blow came unexpected, across the face, dad’s power knocking Sam from his feet and sending him sprawling on the ground. He didn’t cry out. 

“I don’t like you taking that tone with me. Try again, boy.” 

He’d been demoted from ‘son’ to ‘boy,’ though to be honest Sam wasn’t sure which he liked less. “No, sir.” Sam said, not getting up. He knew better than to get up when he was wanted on the floor. He hadn’t been taking a tone.

“I imagine you don’t think you were taking a tone, but you were.” Dad said, and Sam was sure that mind-reading wasn’t one of his powers, but it was hard to know for absolute certain. “You did as I asked.”

It wasn’t a question, which left Sam unsure for a second if he was meant to answer. But he decided the risk of talking out of turn was less than that of not answering when he should have. “Yes, sir.” 

“Good, you’re useful for something, at least.” He’d been instructed to make Jocelyn think he was stupid, so she would be insulted at who’d been sent to pick her up. Sam heard movement; dad was turning away from him. “Go, then. Play with your pet in the dungeon. We’ll talk in the morning.” 

“Thank you, sir.” Sam said quietly, still not moving from the floor. Dad’s footsteps moved away a bit, and he heard the door open and close. Sam only got up once that had happened, and then he moved away from that room as quickly as he could. 

It wasn’t the things his father said to him or the fact that he hit him, Sam reflected as he turned and walked the forty paces back up the hall. It was that Solomon talked to Sam like he was barely there that pissed him off so much. He knew exactly how to make Sam feel like nothing just by sharing space with him. 

Sam wasn’t nothing. He knew there were lamps light in sconces in the hall and he reached out and found them with his power, his mind feeling the chaotic cracking of the fire. He put them all out as he re-entered the room with the stairs, the servants falling quiet again. Night had fallen, and it was dark. 

Sam wasn’t nothing. It was dark, and Sam was a _king._

It was ten steps to the base of those twenty stairs and, still seething, Sam crossed them in nine. 

Before tripping over the hem of the carpet and plunging forward with a sharp intake of breath. His hand came up and the slapping noise that he heard as it connected with the alabaster bannister of the staircase was obscene, sounding like weakness and failure.

The silence that had fallen in the room when he’d come in was nothing to the pulsating dirge of quiet that resounded through the space. The servants had all heard him nearly fall. He couldn’t hear them over the blood pounding in his ears so Sam reached out with his magic and found them, three of them. He picked one at random and threw him into a wall, just hard enough to elicit a cry of pain. “Was it you?” He asked in a whisper. “Who thought that would be funny?” 

“No, sir. I didn’t, I swear I didn’t, please…”

“Thought it would be funny to trip the poor blind boy, did you? Have a nice laugh about it afterwards?” Sam was shaking now because he could already hear it, the laughter. The pity. It was dark in this room. How dare they laugh at their king? How dare they…

“It wasn’t me.” The servant insisted, and who was Sam kidding? Most of the servants hadn’t chosen to be here. He was a slave. “I swear it wasn’t me, please sir, it was them, please.”

Sam snorted a laugh, an animalistic sound. He lashed out with his power and lit the lamps, a flare of light that must have hurt the slaves’ eyes. Finding the other slaves, he picked them both up by their necks, cutting off airflow and any potential protest. “Their fault, was it?” He asked.

“Yes.” The first man insisted. Pleaded. He had to be able to see what Sam was doing to them. “It wasn’t me, I swear.” Maybe the other two were his friends or family. Sam didn’t know. But he did know that it didn’t take much to make people turn on each other. 

“Fine.” Sam said, and he crushed both of the other two slaves’ throats with a satisfying crunch, a slurping sound, and dropped them both to the ground. “Thank you for your honesty.” He added, letting the first man fall harmlessly to his feet. “Clean that mess up.” 

“Yes, sir.” The man panted, holding back what might have been a weep, but Sam had already lost interest and started up the stairs. 

Only after he’d gotten back into the long hallway did Sam realize that dad was going to hear about that and assume it was because he’d managed to get under Sam’s skin earlier. “Fuck.” He growled, angry all over again, this time with himself. 

Sam’s relief when he got behind the door that led to the dungeons was a physical thing and he leaned against the door for a moment, willing himself to stop shaking and breathe normally. Once he’d done that, he made his way down the spiral staircase into the underbelly of the castle. There were more torches burning on the walls, and Sam put them all out. It was always dark down here, even at midday. It was supposed to be that way—a place where light couldn’t penetrate. 

Sam’s kingdom. 

The guard was nowhere to be found as usual. He had a little room down at the far end of the dungeon, and he was probably asleep there. All the better; Sam wasn’t in the mood for anyone but Henry at the moment. 

He didn’t need to run his hand along the wall any longer. He’d been down here enough to have memorized the steps to Henry’s cell. Just outside the door he paused, realizing his hands were still shaking. He wasn’t as calm as he thought, and his power was vibrating in his mind from having been used more than usual. Sorcery was a surging magic that liked to be used, and the more a sorcerer used it the hungrier it got for release. He could feel his power reacting even just to the little spell circle he’d put on the door here, a gnashing ball of Order wrapped in a balancing membrane of Chaos. That was for later, when he was ready to let Henry out, but he could feel his power slithering to trigger it now, because it was there. Maybe he shouldn’t see Henry tonight; Sam might do something he would regret.

After a moment Sam remembered that he’d never regretted anything in his life and pushed open the door and moved into the little room. “Morning, Henry.” He said, putting on a confident mask that was easier now that he had all the power. 

Henry made a little noise of acknowledgement from the near corner of the room, but that was it. 

Sam sighed, took the step to be in front of Henry, crouched. And slapped him in the face. “The proper response would be ‘Good morning, Sam.’ I also accept ‘sir,’ ‘master,’ or ‘your majesty.’ Just not where dad can hear.” Maybe he should insist on that last one, actually. This was his kingdom, after all. Henry lived here in the dark—Sam’s subject. 

Yes, he liked that. 

“Sorry. Good morning, Sam.” 

Sam felt his face scrunch a little at that and he squeezed Henry’s arm just hard enough to hurt. “Don’t apologize. Don’t ever apologize to me, Henry. I hate apologies.” That was something he’d gotten from dad, he knew. Apologizing when he was mad just made him madder. 

“What…”

“Just don’t. Next time you apologize to me I’m going to break your hand.” He grabbed Henry’s hand and squeezed, fed some of his power in until bones snapped and Henry cried out. “Like that. Okay?” 

“Okay.” Henry strained, and Sam ran healing magic up his arm like a lightning bolt, smiling at the second cry of pain he got in response. 

“Good. You’re learning a lot faster than I thought you would. Soon making me happy will be second nature to you.” 

The vague rustle that preceded a small whimper told him Henry had nodded in response. Something else Sam was going to have to train him out of, but that could wait. “Now, let’s talk about ethics some more, Henry. A young couple are being chased by wolves. They have a toddler and an infant with them. Which one should they toss behind them to distract the wolves?”

“The…” Henry paused for a moment, swallowed audibly. “The infant.”

“Why?” Sam asked, curious.

“Because…um…it’s weighing them down as they run…”

“You’re lying.” Sam said quietly, sitting down properly in front of Henry and reaching into his shirt for his knife. “The point of this isn’t just to say the most reprehensible thing just because you think I want to hear it, Henry. I’m trying to teach you.” He poked the knife into Henry’s knees as he spoke, puncturing the skin. “The toddler is heavier, so she’s weighing them down more if they’re carrying her—and if she’s running, she’s doing it more slowly than the parents. Plus there’s more meat there to distract the wolves. Make sense?” 

“Yeah…” Henry must have thought he was doing a better job at pretending to agree with Sam than he was, but Sam didn’t care to call him on it yet. That he believed he was fooling Sam was part of the fun. 

Besides, kings had to be patient. Sam knew it was only a matter of time before he really did win Henry over. He could wait. 

He could wait as long as he had to.


	8. The Problem with Mind Games Is that it Gets Hard to Tell When You’re Playing and When You’re Not

“I’d burn the field.” Henry said dully. 

“The owners have professed loyalty to you, though.” Sam reminded him.

“Then they should understand that you need to kill that rebel.” Henry answered. “If burning their field is enough to shake their loyalty, they weren’t loyal enough anyway.” 

Sam smiled a little. “Very good. You’ve gotten a lot better at this.” 

“Thanks.” Henry was clearly not happy to have gotten better at making people fear him, but Sam didn’t care much about Henry’s happiness. 

“I should go.” Sam said, standing and brushing off his pantlegs. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Henry.”

“Hey, Sam?” 

Sam paused, the tone in Henry’s voice making him turn. “What is it?” Henry had never made a point of extending their conversations before.

“Are you…doing okay?” 

Sam blinked. “What?” 

“Just…” Henry sighed. “This is probably just going to piss you off.” He muttered quietly. “The last few days you’ve seemed a little…down, is all.” 

Frowning, Sam wondered what he had done that had given Henry that impression. Admittedly, he hadn’t been in the best mood lately, but he hadn’t been taking it out on Henry particularly. “You don’t need to pretend to care about my well-being, Henry.” Sam said after a moment. “You’re pretending you want what I do to you, that’s good enough.”

“I’m not pretending.” Henry insisted.

“Don’t lie until you’re better at it.” Sam advised, crouching in front of Henry again. “What do you really want?” 

“God.” Henry whispered. “I don’t _care,_ I just…nevermind.” 

Sam smiled. “I like you better when you’re putting up a bit of a fight, Henry. I know you don’t care about me—so what is it really?” 

“I do care about you, though.” Henry said, a little sharply. “You want me to tell the truth? Yeah, I don’t think much about your feelings except for how you’ll take them out of me today.” 

“Fair enough.” That was about as far as Sam thought about other people’s feelings as well.

“But I do care about you—you’re the only way I’m getting out of here.” 

“ _If_ I decide to let you out.” Sam mused, moving to sit beside Henry with his back against the wall. 

“You will.”

“Careful.” Sam said, running a finger up Henry’s arm. “That sounded like an order. I don’t take well to being told what to do.” 

“Fine.” Sam could hear Henry sigh again. “ _If_ you let me out. But it’s still my only chance. If you’re going to be in some…mood that’s going to change what you agreed to, I want to know.” 

Seemed like Henry was getting a little of his fight back. That was good. “Do you remember me telling you about Todd?”

Henry was quiet for a minute. “The servant who you wanted to trick into liking you?”

“Yes, him.” Sam was a bit surprised that Henry did remember, actually. “I’ve been trying to be nice to him, like you said. It’s working, I think.”

“Of course it is.” Henry muttered. “People like it when you’re nice to them.” 

“Funny, I remember you saying you liked it when I wasn’t nice to you.” Henry had said no such thing, but Sam wanted to hear what he would say. 

Henry chose not to rise to that bait, which was clever. He really was getting smarter. “So what’s the problem, then?” 

Sam closed his eyes for a minute. “He feels bad for me.” He said, finally. “Which I suspected, but…I told him I felt bad for him because of what’s happened to him—my father dismembered his parents in front of him or something, I don’t remember—and he said he felt bad for me too, because I had to grow up the way I did.” Sam was pretty sure he’d meant being blind in addition to his father, but Henry would get the point without that information. 

“Maybe he was lying.” Henry said after a moment of silence in which Sam made it obvious he was waiting for Henry to say something. “I mean, you were lying.”

“I was.” Sam confirmed. “I…hate people feeling sorry for me, Henry. I _hate_ it. I…I almost melted the skin off his hands when he said that.” 

“But you didn’t?”

“No.” Sam said, a little annoyed with himself. He should have. “That wouldn’t have been very…nice. I told him I was fine and thanked him for worrying about me.”

“I’m surprised.”

“So am I.” Sam admitted. “I didn’t think I was capable of sounding like such an idiot.” 

Henry snorted. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“No.” Sam was at a loss. “I honestly don’t see the appeal. If someone was treating me the way I treat him, I’d be suspicious and try to figure out what they wanted, but…” He trailed off. 

“And that’s what’s been bothering you?”

“Part of it.” Sam sighed, figuring he may as well tell Henry this part. “Dad’s starting making comments about how much time I spend down here.” 

A dangerous quiet fell for a moment. “What kind of comments?”

“Just…he’s mentioned it. He wonders why you’re still alive. I think he’s probably guessed that I’ve been having sex with you.” 

“You’ve been raping me, Sam.” Henry’s voice went pleasantly flat at that. 

“That’s interesting, I could have sworn you begged me to do whatever I wanted.” Sam said, tapping his finger against Henry’s thigh. “That seems a lot like consent to me.” 

“That’s because you’re psychotic.” Henry mumbled.

“Don’t push your luck.” Sam advised, removing his hand. “Anyway, I think he knows. Remember how I said he sends me girls sometimes? He hasn’t in quite a while.” 

“Is that going to be a problem for you?” Henry asked, and Sam thought he sounded curious more than anything. 

“I’m not sure. I don’t…think he would care that much that I like boys.” Though Sam wasn’t entirely sure about that. “But on the other hand, he likes having reasons to make me feel like shit, so…”

“You’d think he’d be nicer to the only kid he’s got left here.” 

Sam smiled grimly. “Oh, make no mistake. He has no intention of letting me inherit anything.” Otherwise why would Sam need to overthrow him? “All of us are disappointments in that regard.”

“What does that mean?”

“He has a weapon that he tried to bind to my soul when I was born. It didn’t work—me and my living siblings are all lucky in that we survived the process. Or so I’m told.” 

Sam waited, to see what Henry would do with that information. “What kind of weapon?” He asked after a minute. 

“No, that’s enough family secrets for one day, I think.” Sam could have told Henry about the stone, as it wasn’t like he could do anything about it, but he would rather not. “Anyway, dad likes to break things that make me happy, so he might try to kill you soon.”

“I…”

“Don’t worry.” Sam said, and he leaned over and gave Henry a kiss on the cheek. “If he kills you it will be because he killed me first.” Honestly Sam didn’t know what he would do if dad decided to kill Henry tomorrow. A part of him was afraid that he would just stand there and let him. Not because he cared about Henry, but because of what that would mean for Sam’s own commitment to killing dad. 

“And I’ll still be just as dead.”

“That’s right.” Sam smiled. “You’re starting to think more like me. Just like with asking me how I felt because it affected you.”

“You’re the one who says I’m getting better.” Henry grumbled, sounding miserable. 

“And I was right. If dad starts making more noise about you I may just have to attack him earlier than I planned. I’ll let you know.” He had no specific plan to attack dad at the moment, but Henry didn’t need to know that. 

Sam stood, stretched. “I feel better.” He was a little surprised that that was true.

“Glad I could help.”

Sam hadn’t said anything about Henry helping, but that was fine. “Thank you for asking.” He said. “Even if it was motivated by selfishness, it was a nice thing to do.” 

“Some of us don’t have to make an effort to be nice.” 

Smiling, Sam shook his head and headed for the cell door. He didn’t mind that Henry was talking to him like that, really. There was nothing wrong with Henry thinking he was softening Sam up. “You…” Henry started, then trailed off. 

“What?”

“I assumed you were going to hurt me, for talking to you that way.” 

But even having thought that, Henry had still talked to Sam that way. Sam nearly laughed. “No. You sounded more like me today than you ever have. Consider it a reward. Goodnight, Henry.”

Henry was quiet for a long time, and Sam could practically hear him thinking. “Goodnight, Sam.” He said, finally realizing Sam was waiting. 

Sam wondered as he left if he was being too obvious. It seemed like Henry had fallen for it too easily, but surely he couldn’t be that stupid. Surely he knew that Sam was playing with him. 

He might have to test soon, try and get Henry to admit what he really thought.


	9. Power is a Potent Aphrodisiac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being a lot more intense than I expected, and that's saying something.

Sam came with a grunt, twisting Henry’s arm to illicit a nice cry of pain as he did. 

When he was finished, he pulled out and pushed Henry to the floor, falling back into a sitting position and wiping at his brow with one arm. They breathed together in silence for a while, until Sam reached out and smacked Henry on the thigh. “Well?”

“Thank you, sir.” Henry said in a small voice. 

That was better, but Sam shouldn’t have had to remind him. He sighed. “You’re pathetic.” 

“I know.” Henry answered, and Sam just snorted. “You’re energetic today.” 

“Am I?” Sam hadn’t noticed, but he thought about it and he supposed he’d been a bit more vigourous than usual with Henry. “I am in a pretty good mood. Actually, it’s making me feel generous. Roll over and touch yourself.” 

Henry hesitated in complying, but not for long enough that Sam felt compelled to hurt him over it. He wasn’t very loud about it, which was a bit annoying, but Sam preferred that to Henry faking something, he supposed. 

It wasn’t all that interesting to just sit here and listen, though. “What are you thinking about?” Sam asked, pulling Henry’s foot into his lap and fiddling with the toes just because he could. When Henry didn’t answer right away, Sam continued. “Not me, I assume.”

“I’m…not, really.” Henry murmured. At least he didn’t try that particular lie. 

“Come on. It’s not a purely mechanical process, you must have something in mind. We’re friends, you can tell me your jerk-off fantasies, Henry. Is it a girl from home? Or maybe it’s Terry. Are you imaging Terry’s cock inside you like the way mine just was?”

“No…”

“Maybe he’s telling you he loves you?”

“No.” Henry whinged, and Sam reflected that he would have to be careful to keep the subject of Terry in his pocket for when he really wanted to upset Henry. He didn’t want it losing its potency. 

“Maybe it is me, then.” Sam mused, playing with Henry’s toes. He was pretty sure it would be possible to create a spell that would force someone to feel arousal. He reached out for the Forces, thinking it shouldn’t be that different from making people feel other emotions, which he knew how to do in principle, though he’d never had much occasion to try it out. Most emotional magic was Order-aspected, so he started there. “Are you thinking about doing to me what I do to you?” He asked. 

“Of course not.” Henry panted.

“That’s not very convincing.” If the magic didn’t work, then Sam figured at worst he’d make Henry feel some other feeling and he’d know pretty quickly. “I bet you are. You want to rape me, don’t you, Henry? You want to shove me against a wall or the floor, fuck me until I can’t walk, make me bleed and cry?”

“Stop.”

“Or have me on my knees in front of you?” Sam asked, manipulating a thread of power now and feeding it into Henry. “Choke me on your cock, just shove it down my throat. Maybe you’ll pull out and shoot all over my face, then make me say, ‘thank you, sir.’”

“I’m not…” Henry’s breath caught for just an instant. “I’m not.”

“Because you’re really not or because you’re too afraid to?” 

“I’m not like you.” 

“So you keep saying, but I’m not convinced.” Sam smiled. “But maybe I’m wrong, then. Maybe you’re thinking about me raping you.” Getting the hang of the magic he was using now, Sam really worked it into Henry, and was a rewarded with a sharp intake of breath as he felt something, at least. “Even though it just happened a few minutes ago, you’re thinking about what it felt like to be hurt, to be humiliated, broken. Maybe you like it.”

“I…” 

“It’s okay, you can admit it. We’re friends, remember?”

“I don’t!” Henry shouted, and it filled the cell, surprising Sam with its volume. 

Into the silence that fell afterwards, Sam smiled. And didn’t say anything. 

“I…” Henry was trying to control his breathing. He’d stopped masturbating. “I’m sorry, Sam. I…”

“It’s okay.” Sam chose to overlook the apology, still fiddling with Henry’s toes. He wondered if Henry really needed this many toes. “Do you want to know why I’m in a good mood today?” 

“Why?” Henry asked, voice strained. 

“Remember Todd?”

The way that Henry tensed told Sam he was already anticipating some of what was to come. “Yeah.”

“We had sex.”

Henry was silent for a moment. “What?”

“You’re supposed to be touching yourself.” Sam reminded him. “I raped him, if you want to be pedantic. He was in my room helping me get ready for bed last night, and of course we’re friends now so he thinks that means he should prattle on all the damn time. He was telling me about some stupid field near his family’s house and how beautiful it was and I just thought that…I would rather be fucking him than listening to him.” 

“God…” Henry was stroking himself again, for real this time. The magic must be working. Sam didn’t think he’d tell Henry about the spell. Let him think he was getting off on this all on his own. 

“So that’s what I did. He was helping me dress for bed anyway so I told him I needed help with the laces on my pants. He must have seen that I was hard but he got down on his knees anyway to unlace them.” Todd was a bit of an idiot, actually. He’d deserved what Sam had done to him. “I grabbed him by the hair and stuck my cock in his mouth. Told him if he bit me I’d rip his teeth out.” Sam smiled at the memory, getting hard again. “It was, uh.” He giggled a little. “Listening to him gag and choke on it. I liked it. I’d like to try actually choking someone to death like that someday.” It probably wouldn’t work, Sam reflected. He wasn’t really big enough. Still, trying might be fun. Maybe a young kid or something. 

“I didn’t mean to cum in his mouth, but I did. He coughed so much after, like he was going to throw up. You never did that.” The sound of flesh on flesh was getting faster. “I threw him on the bed and ripped his clothes and when I was climbing on him to fuck him, he said…” Sam broke off, lost in the memory for a moment. He’d started touching himself without realizing it. “He said ‘no.’” 

Henry’s only answer was a soft whimper. Sam strengthened the flow of magic going into him. “Do you understand, Henry, what it is to take away someone’s ‘no?’ It’s the best feeling in the world. Knowing that you don’t want this, you’d stop me if you could. And knowing you can’t, so you’re reduced to hiding behind a word, and then taking even that away from you, it’s…God, it’s amazing. I hurt him so badly after that, Henry. I didn’t even really mean to. I broke his arm holding it behind his back, with my bare hands. I fucked him so hard I could smell the blood. I…”

Henry interrupted Sam with a cry as he came, and Sam could hear the spurts of cum squirting out from him and stopped the flow of magic with a smile. Let Henry wrestle with the guilt of that for a while. “You know what the best part was, though?” 

Henry didn’t answer immediately, and Sam could hear him crying quietly. Sam bent one of Henry’s toes far enough out of its rotation to be painful. “I asked you a question.”

“I don’t…I don’t know.” Henry said, his words coming in starts.

“I made him leave after I was done with him and told him what I wanted for breakfast the next morning. And you know, he came back in the morning and gave it to me. He started crying when I told him he seemed quiet and asked if anything was wrong, sort of like how you are now. But when I told him I needed his help lacing up my pants he still got down on his knees and did it for me.”

“God…” Henry whimpered. 

“That’s what I like.” Sam said, his hardness almost painful. “I realized that finally. Sex is okay, but I like that, the power. I like that I can do what I want and make you come back to let me do it again the next day if I want to.” 

“Why…why are you like this?” 

Sam didn’t know. “That’s a bit of a tall question when you just came to me telling you about raping a servant.” 

“I…no. I didn’t. I didn’t, Sam. That wasn’t…”

“You’re just like I am, I’ve been trying to tell you.” Sam was pretty sure that everyone was on the inside, and that they all just pretended not to be. 

“No.”

“The only difference is that I have the power to go with it and you don’t.” 

“That’s not true!” 

“Taking a bit of a step backward there, aren’t we?” Sam asked playfully. If this was all it took to get Henry to be more honest with him, Sam should have raped Todd weeks ago. 

“I don’t…” Henry cut himself off. “You’re the one who keeps telling me to be honest with you.” 

“That’s true. Tell me how you feel, Henry.”

“You’re sick, you’re a monster. You’re nothing like me. I’m nothing like you. Nothing.” 

“Hm.”

“I hate you.” Henry cried in a soft voice. 

“But you’re still going to let me use you, aren’t you? How very…”

“It’s not worth it.” Henry whispered, interrupting Sam. Sam didn’t like to be interrupted, but he quieted and let Henry talk. “It’s not worth it. I was wrong, it’s not worth becoming like you.”

“And here I thought you were happy to be my plaything.”

“No.” Henry said, voice small. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” He wasn’t talking to Sam anymore. 

But this was the most interesting Henry had been in a while. Sam dropped his foot on the floor and crawled on top of Henry, not surprised in the slightest when Henry struggled underneath him. Months in a prison cell had left him weak and Sam was able to keep him pinned without the use of his magic. “No!” 

“Henry.” Sam whispered, positioning himself awkwardly since Henry wouldn’t stop moving underneath him. He leaned down and got right in Henry’s ear as he prepared to enter him. “You have no idea how much I’ve been wanting you to say that.” 

Henry screamed and cried and cursed and said it over and over and over. _No, no. no._

And Sam revelled in taking that ‘no’ away from him.


	10. They Say Good Things Happen to Good People--but They Happen to Bad People too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been looking forward to writing this one for quite a long time now.

Later, Sam would tell people that he just hadn’t felt like passing the butter. 

Breakfast was quiet, like most things that he and his father shared. Solomon didn’t talk to his inferiors any more than he had to, and Sam—like all of them—was very much an inferior. Maybe more so, since dad at least had Sam’s siblings out doing useful things instead of hanging around the castle here, but honestly it was hard to tell. Sam _was_ the youngest, so maybe in a year or so he’d get sent away somewhere too. 

All that said to Sam was that dad was afraid to have too many other sorcerers around him at any given time. 

They were seated at a small round table in the dining room, a cavernous, drafty room with tall windows that let in the outside air, that volcanic air that always smelled just a little like sulphur. There was no wind today and the hot morning air hung heavy in the room. The little clatters of tableware being moved, the shuffling of servants along one of the walls, the faintest sound of dad’s breathing and the chewing of food were Sam’s company as he ate. Those, and the constant high thrum of dad’s power, and the different frequency of the stone that he always had with him, both of which made Sam’s power want to react in kind. 

Sam knew better. 

It would end eventually. Dad hadn’t called Sam down here for bacon and toast. Usually Sam ate by himself in his room, and for that matter, so did dad. He must want something from Sam. 

Or maybe he just wanted Sam to feel anxious, it could be either, really. 

“There’s a scouting party on the way here.” Sam raised his head at the baritone of dad’s voice, trying not to seem startled. He’d expected dad to talk, he really had. Some grease from the bacon was on Sam’s chin and he reached up and wiped if off. 

That was all dad said, and Sam listened very carefully to the silence afterwards, interpreting expectation from it. He wanted a response. “Sent from where?” he asked, with no way to intuit what the right question was. 

“Hawk’s Roost.” 

“Well, that’s interesting,” Sam said, considering. 

“Is it?” There was a tilt of amusement in dad’s voice. 

Sam wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to that either. That a scouting party had come from the capital had seemed objectively interesting to him. “Isn’t it? It’s the first time they’ve worked up the nerve to even acknowledge we’re here.”

“That it is.” There was a pause and Sam heard a slurp as dad drank some water. A tap as he set the cup down. “It’s being led by Hans diFueure.” That was the king’s family name from before he’d married into the diGorre family, Sam remembered. Lord Hans must have been Dolph’s brother or an uncle or nephew. 

“He’d be useful.” Sam didn’t elaborate much farther than that. He didn’t think hostages were really all that useful—alive. That their families thought they were alive was good enough, but why waste time and resources taking care of someone when they could tell all their secrets under a hot iron? 

But Sam and his father weren’t entirely in agreement about that, so he kept quiet, reaching for his own cup. It wasn’t quite where he’d thought it was and he only brushed it with his fingers, adjusting his grip before dad could notice. 

Dad always noticed. But he didn’t say anything. 

“That’s what I think too,” dad agreed, and Sam wondered or a moment if he’d misheard. Dad didn’t usually agree with him—especially when he was right. “I’m going to send you home with him.”

“What?” That took Sam so acutely by surprise that he didn’t have the mental capacity to be polite just then. A little water sloshed out onto his hand. Dad’s power thrummed. The power in the stone thrummed more keenly in response. The air smelled like sulphur and bacon.

“I said you’ll be going to Hawk’s Roost with Lord Hans. You’ll leave today, make as if you escaped, offer him whatever information you like to convince him to take you to his lovely home. Herbert will go with you.”

Herbert was the guard captain, a recent promotion. He was also the one dad had liked to threaten Sam with as a kid. Sam had always known he would go through with whatever dad told him to. 

Needless to say, he didn’t miss the threat inherent. 

“Once you’re there, you’ll infiltrate their court—play the sad lost orphan, escaped blind boy from your evil father. Acting pathetic should play to your few strengths. Eventually I’ll send you my signal and you’ll kill all of them.” Dad sounded bored. The stone pulsed in his pocket. Sam’s heartbeat had picked up.

“How…” Sam didn’t like this feeling—the feeling that he wasn’t keeping up.

“I expect you’ll figure out a way, son,” dad drawled. His chair creaked a little. “You haven’t forgotten that you’re a sorcerer in all your time downstairs, have you? Even you ought to be strong enough to kill a few ordinary people.”

“How,” Sam repeated, and this time dad didn’t interrupt him, “am I going to get back?”

“That’s hardly my problem. If you survive the encounter I’m sure you’ll manage.” The doubt in dad’s voice was as palpable as the pounding of power in the air around them. Sam’s power was reacting to it, and he wasn’t containing it as well as he should have been. “Oh,” dad added. “I’m going to have that pet of yours killed, since you’re leaving anyway.” 

“No.” As soon as he said it Sam clamped his mouth shut, blood rushing in his ears, making them hot. The air smelled like sweat and sulphur. 

“Excuse me?” Dad’s voice was filled with the iron that Sam could taste in his mouth.

Sam had to say something now. “I’ll do it,” he improvised. “I’ll kill him, I’ll do it. Let me do it, please, sir.” 

Henry. Henry was _his._ Sam’s things had always been taken away or broken. He wanted to keep Henry. If Henry was going to die, Sam was going to do it. 

“No, I don’t think so. You’re too enamoured of him. I don’t trust you not to let him escape or some foolish fantasy—I expect you’ve built him up in your mind as some saviour for you. Best to get rid of that notion now, I think. I’ll have one of the guards feed him to the centipedes.” 

“No, dad, please…” Sam _hated_ this. Hated how stupid he sounded. He didn’t care about Henry. This wasn’t about Henry. 

“Is there something wrong with your hearing, Samson?” dad asked kindly. “It would be a shame if you were to have to go without that too.”

“Go without?” Sam whispered, sagging a little. His power was running amok all over his body, sending shards of electricity through his limbs at random. He knew dad could feel it, his own power was throbbing more quickly in response. The stone seemed to be vibrating. “I’m not…there’s nothing _wrong_ with me.” 

The only thing about being blind that bothered Sam was that everyone wanted to _remind_ him of it all the time. 

“Sit down, son. Your breakfast is getting cold.” 

Sam hadn’t realized that he’d stood. He stayed like that for a moment longer, hands on the table to hide how much they were shaking. This was too much, all at once. Dad always did this, always made it hard for him to concentrate. 

“I said sit _down,_ boy.”

Small, shaking, Sam sat. 

And he hated himself for it. 

“That’s better. It’s clear I’ve been letting you have too much free time. You seem to have forgotten your place all of the sudden.”

He could hear the servants shuffling in the background. They were trying to be quiet, but he knew they were there. They had heard that entire thing. 

“Know that I’ll be keeping an eye on you while you’re gone,” dad continued. “If you don’t carry out the task I’ve given you properly, I’ll correct the mistake I made when you were born. Pass the butter.” 

Surely he couldn’t really be shaking this much. Sam felt like he was sitting through an earthquake. His tongue was sticking to the top of his mouth. Sam reached for the butter. 

It wasn’t where he’d left it. He ended up knocking on the table right where he’d put the little bowl a few minutes ago when he’d finished using it. 

Sam moved his hand around that area, bumping up against his plate, the dish holding the bacon, a pitcher. No butter. 

“Something the matter, son?” 

Sam went still, hand flat on the table. The itch of his power under his skin was almost painful. The stone was keening in dad’s pocket. Dad’s power was pulsing. The sound of hush had flooded into the room. The air smelled like butter. 

The table cracked under Sam’s hand as his power came rushing forth all at once, Chaos-aspected, crawling its way up from his stomach to explode out in front of him with a snap. The table cracked in half and flew apart. Dad flew back and hit the wall with a dull thud. One of the servants shouted out. 

Sam stood.

Power hummed all around the room now, from Sam, from dad, from the stone. Dad coughed. “Looks like someone needs to be taught a lesson,” he said, sounding on the verge of laughter. He was a giant, far more powerful than Sam. Sam had no hope.

“No,” Sam said, taking a step forward before his father could stand. “I think I’ve learned everything I need to from you, dad.” 

Sam had never needed hope before. Dad had spent his whole life killing that. 

Sam reached out, with his hand but with his power, seizing on that keening thing in Solomon’s pocket. The stone flew loose, coming towards him. 

And stopped, pulled back by an opposite power. “I don’t think so.” Solomon was getting to his feet, his voice coming from higher up now. They were a few arm lengths apart, unless Solomon had managed to move the table itself without Sam noticing. 

“I didn’t ask what you thought.” Sam wasn’t shaking any longer. He wasn’t afraid. He was far beyond fear now. Either he was going to win or he was going to die. 

If he died, it would be with the satisfaction that he’d ruined Solomon’s plan, at least. 

He put all of his power into pulling that stone towards him. It was a powerful weapon, one that made any sorcerer who touched it much stronger all at once. Sam didn’t have a chance as long as Solomon had access to it. 

Solomon pulled back, and he was stronger than Sam even without the stone. But Sam wasn’t going to back down, he couldn’t. Solomon wouldn’t be willing to risk his life, he wasn’t like that. But Sam, Sam’s entire life was already on the table right now. So he opened himself up to his power as strongly as he could, to both Forces, using both of them to pull the stone closer. If it killed him then he deserved to die. 

“You fool boy,” Solomon snarled at him, still pulling back. Still winning. “You have no idea. You don’t know _anything_.”

“I know you’re afraid of me,” Sam said, taking a step forward. Their tug-of-war was sending shocks of magic through the room, shaking the stones. 

Solomon barked a laugh. “Afraid of you? You’re worthless. Why should anyone fear you?”

“Then why didn’t you kill me when I was a baby?” Sam asked, calmly. This wasn’t working; Solomon was pulling harder than he was. Another reverberation of power went out and one of the servants cried out in pain. The air smelled like blood.

“I thought I could find some use for you.” Solomon sounded strained, but not as much as Sam did. He had to do something. “The biggest mistake of my life.” 

“I’ll make sure it is,” Sam promised. The stone, he thought. He needed the stone to win this. But he couldn’t get the stone unless he won this. 

Unless he could. It was crying out, a near-shriek of power that rivalled Solomon’s in volume. But the power of the stone was acting the same way the power of a human would act. 

Sam split his focus a little, still pulling with all his might, but turning inward as well, to his own power. Stopping the crawling and spiking it wanted to do and wrestling it to behave differently. To vibrate, like the stone. 

Would it work? Sam didn’t know. But it was his only chance. 

“You wouldn’t even know what to do with this stone if you did get your sticky hands on it.” Solomon gave a huge pull, and it was all Sam could do to keep from letting go. The vibrations from his power were filling his ears now, those and his own heartbeat. 

“What I want to know,” Sam asked, feeling his pull grow weaker as he put too much of his energy into changing the frequency of his magic, “is what you would have done if you’d actually managed to bind it to me when I was born like you wanted to. You’re so scared of me now, I don’t know what you’d have done if I was that powerful all my childhood.” The stone was vibrating at less of a screech now, deepening in tone. It was starting to sound like Sam. 

The stone had never sounded like Solomon. 

Solomon’s snort was audible. “You think you can distract me with some worthless prattle? I see what you’re doing—trying to distract me because you know you’re not strong enough to finish what you started.”

“What _you_ started.” Sam corrected, tasting blood in his mouth. His arms felt like they were aflame. The stone was pulsing again, in addition to the vibrations. It was…beating. It was beating just like Sam’s heart. 

“Yes, what _I_ started, boy,” Solomon raged. “What I started before you were born, my plan—to change the world, to _rule_ the world, to be a _god_ , boy. My plan, my power. Nearly thirty years in the making now, and you think I’ll be undone by some child who doesn’t want to give up his favourite toy?” 

While Solomon was ranting, Sam was listening to his own heartbeat. The stone was getting farther and farther away, it must be just inches from Solomon’s hand now. But it sounded like Sam, it felt like Sam. 

So Sam reached out along that line of sympathy and grabbed, not with his power but with something else, something that was _him._

And the stone grabbed back. 

Solomon’s hold over the stone broke immediately and it flew into Sam’s hand, which clasped over the warm rock even as a scratching, crawling _fire_ cast through Sam’s entire soul and psyche, searing him and sending him to the ground in a cavalcade of surges, cacophonous blasts in Sam’s head that went on into infinity, and the Forces were there, and they were _there_ , in a way they never had been before, in a way that wasn’t extrinsic but was part of Sam, not something that Sam could touch but something that Sam _was_. And it was so much that what Sam was threatened to get lost in the maelstrom.

_I refuse to get lost_ , Sam asserted, putting everything he had into staying afloat in all of it. Trying to do this killed everyone who tried. He hadn’t come this far to die in some sorcerous fire. He hadn’t touched the sun so that it could burn him alive. He hadn’t. He wouldn’t. He wasn’t everyone, He was _Sam_ , and he was a _king_ , and a king didn’t _die_ because he’d put on a new crown. 

Sam stood. 

The air smelled like power. 

Somewhere, deep in the fortress, a thin membrane of Chaos frayed until the unruly ball of Order inside it broke free. And a door creaked open. 

“No…” Sam heard Solomon whisper over the torrent rushing in his ears.

Sam smiled. “Dad,” he said. The stone was hard in his left palm. “I’ve recently come to realize that’s my favourite word to hear from anyone.” 

“That’s impossible!” Solomon insisted. And now, now he sounded afraid. “I tried, when you were a baby. It failed—you failed.”

“Babies aren’t very good at magic.” Sam took a step forward, feeling out this new power. The servants against the far wall. 

In a series of shrieks that were cut off all at once, suddenly there were several less people in the room. 

Sam had barely even thought about what he wanted. “You probably should have thought of that,” he said, turning his attention back to Solomon. “You could have tried binding it to yourself, you know. But, of course—you were too afraid.” 

“You…” And Solomon’s power surged, massively from what it had been. He’d been toying earlier, not putting his everything into stopping Sam. Well, he was going to regret that now. “Power’s not enough, Samson. I’m still a better sorcerer than you’ll ever be.”

“Sure you are,” Sam scoffed. He took a step forward. “The Sorcerer King. Not anymore. I’m the king now.”

“The king of what, boy?” Solomon’s attack was unexpected, and Sam staggered but was able to deflect the spear of flame that shot up from the ground, leaving the stone around him molten. “What do you know of ruling? What do you know of what we’re doing here? What can you accomplish?”

“Your plan, your power, to rule the world, to be a god.” Sam sneered, lashed out and felt Solomon flinch back, hiding behind a shield. “I’m going to destroy everything you ever built, daddy. I’m going to tear it all apart. That’ll be my accomplishment. Don’t worry, I’ll dedicate the ruins to your memory. Here stands the pride of Solomon, King of Rubble.”

“That all? You want to destroy everything? How very ambitious of you, you fool boy.” 

“I haven’t decided what to do after that,” Sam admitted. “But I’ve got a lot of time to figure it out.”

“Assuming you live to see lunch.”

“Right.” Sam smiled now. He wasn’t afraid. “Let’s get the succession sorted out now. I’ve got a coronation to plan.” 

Solomon snorted, and Sam felt a spike of Order. “Here’s your crown.” 

A crack, and everything above Sam was noise, and it took him just a second longer than it should have to realize that he needed a shield of his own. He snapped one up, a bubble of Chaos, just as the roof collapsed on his head. 

Sam was safe inside his bubble, at least from the tonne of rock on top of him. But the small space quickly filled with dust, and then Sam couldn’t breathe. Bringing a hand up to cover his mouth and stop the burning in his lungs, Sam lashed out with Chaos and shoved the stone away. There was so much of it but Sam pushed and pushed, and kept pushing until it gave way, until it was gone and the dust lifted, giving him some clean air to breathe.

He could still feel it in his lungs, but Sam could move and that was what mattered, He pushed rocks out of the way and made his way clear of the pile, trying not to stagger. He tripped over a loose stone and fell to the ground with a shout. As he hit the ground, a pulse of power went out form him unbidden, knocking everything aside and shifting the piles of mortar, covering him in dust again. 

He needed time, and practice, before he’d be able to control this properly. Solomon wasn’t entirely wrong—there was more to winning that just power. 

Solomon was gone, and when Sam got some of his concentration back, he felt the remnants of a teleportation spell in the air. For a moment he felt a spike of anger that threw a shudder through the castle, but he could feel the spell, feel where it went. 

Daddy hadn’t gone far. 

Forcing himself to his feet again, Sam took deep breaths to encourage the dust to get out of his lungs and into the air where it belonged, and took a step forward, and then another. 

He wasn’t oriented anymore, didn’t know where the door was. So he blew a hole in the wall and made his way out to the hallway. 

It wasn’t far. From the door it was fifty-three steps, a left turn, nine stairs, a right turn, twenty-three steps and then a pair of doors. Sam needed a few days, a few weeks to get used to his new strength, to the stone in his hand and the way it had changed his power. But all he had was the route from here to his destination. 

He took his first step and started counting. 

On his way there, Sam did his best to feel out his power, to try and get a hold of it. He wasn’t going to beat Solomon by just tossing it around at random; he needed to think. He needed to have the level of control he’d had before now. He couldn’t get that in the next ten minutes, but he could at least try.

The castle was loud—there was fighting in the halls, Sam realized. Groups of guards were moving around and it seemed like they were fighting with each other. Which meant Solomon had told them to stop Sam and some of them didn’t fancy being torn to pieces. 

The only people Sam tore to pieces were the ones who got in his way, which was more of them than there should have been. The stairs in particular were a site of a lot of fighting. The blood after Sam walked in the room made them slippery and treacherous to walk down. Swords and crossbows and axes cluttered the floor alongside the bodies. 

Sam was tired, but by the time he’d arrived at the doors, he could breathe again, at least. There was nobody around so he let himself rest against the wall for a minute, regaining some energy. 

He should have eaten more at breakfast.

As stable as he was going to be, Sam swallowed and pushed open the doors to the throne room. 

The room was filled with the thrum of power, such that Sam almost didn’t hear the clatter of armour and of wood, the pulling of strings. 

“Fire.” But it was too late, Sam had already reached out his power before Herbert had called out the order. He sent a series of explosions through the room, sufficient to wipe out whatever portion of the guard had been stupid enough to keep standing for Solomon up there on the throne. 

The explosions sounded a lot closer than they should have, and the power in them rebounded onto Sam, who had to guard himself at the last second. “What?”

“I told you it’s not about power, Samson,” Solomon said from the back of the room. “Pay attention to your surroundings.” 

Sam did, taking a breath as the ringing in his ears stopped. The throne room was a hundred paces long, uncomplicated but for four columns, two on either side of the room. Ten paces in, a magical circle began, and it covered the rest of the room right up to where Solomon was sitting. 

It was so complex that Sam couldn’t possibly have comprehended it all at once without hours to study it, but what was obvious was that all of the guards were standing inside of it, and that the centre of its defence was the throne itself. Sam giggled. “You didn’t make this up on the fly, dad. You had this prepared for when someone eventually came to get you. You were even more afraid than I thought.” 

“I think the keyword there is ‘prepared,’ son,” Solomon sneered from the throne. He had a way of sneering with his voice. “You’d have been better to retreat, plan a proper attack, come back when you were ready.” He paused. “I knew you wouldn’t. You’ve always been stupid.”

Sam threw an experimental lance of fire into the centre of the room, fully prepared to block it when a ball of energy came rebounding back at him. The circle was a mixture of the two Forces and had countless openings, to let power in, to divert it across the channels Solomon had created, and to bounce it back. 

And all the guards had to do was stand inside it and shoot arrows at Sam, which is exactly what they did. Sam constructed a shield to keep them out, but this standstill couldn’t last forever. Sam didn’t have the energy for it. 

An intersecting hallway just at the top of the stairs had had a lot of guards fighting in it. Sam remembered it, flexed his new power, cast a teleportation spell. 

One of the guards showed up in pieces, but the rest seemed fine, if disoriented. Pretty good for a spell Sam had never cast before. “Whichever of you kills Herbert will be the new captain of my guard.” 

Sam didn’t know what side these particular guards had chosen, but that didn’t matter anymore. “Oh, and those of you who decided to stay loyal to daddy—I’ll be giving your families to the ones I like as rewards.” 

It was kind of pitiful how quickly chaos erupted then, weapons clashing, men shouting and bleeding, dying. The circle Solomon had put up didn’t stop people walking into it, especially people without magical powers. An odd oversight after Terry and Henry had managed to get so close to him last year. 

“Well played, Samson,” Solomon called over the fighting.

“People are cowards,” Sam said, thinking. He had to break down this spell circle, but he couldn’t find an opening that wouldn’t have his power thrown back at him. “Make them afraid and they’ll do what you say.” 

Solomon laughed. “Perhaps. Sam, it’s not too late—stop this. There’s no reason for us to fight, and if we united, we’d be unstoppable. You can keep your pet in the dungeon—hell, you can have more of them if that’s what you want. Work with me, together we can…”

“That’s the best you can do?” Sam asked, bored. Spell circles could be broken by physically breaking them, Sam thought. But he couldn’t get any magic through the barrier. Unless he cast it on somewhere that wasn’t the within the barrier. “Some pitiful appeal to family bonds and togetherness?” The door behind him creaked just so, just enough that Sam heard it over the fighting. 

“I’m offering you everything in the world!”

“I don’t need you to take that.” Sam smiled. “And all I want is to hear you beg me not to kill you.” 

“Your lack of ambition…” Sam wasn’t listening. Under the floor, in the room below, Sam weakened the stone supporting the front two columns. Suddenly sinking, they wobbled, tilted, and fell, one into the group of now rapidly fleeing guards and the other colliding with a third pillar and tilting it as well. 

He heard a crack up above, but what did Sam care if the ceiling fell in again? He’d survived that the first time. He could feel crawling on his back, but it was fine. He knew it was fine. 

“You call me the king of rubble, but you’ll destroy this whole castle to get to me!” Solomon shouted. “You’re pathetic, boy.”

Parts of the barrier were still up, but much of the front layers had collapsed. Rather than moving, Sam levitated the rubble and tossed it at Solomon. “Am I? You’re the one cowering on his throne. What should I care about something you built?”

The rubble crashed into a solid barrier a few feet in front of Solomon, and Sam smiled. So he had built in a protective wall after all. But it felt like the worst of the magical barrier was gone, so now it was Sam’s time to attack. 

And he did, reaching out with a stream of power that was aimed right at his father’s heart. 

Solomon reached back and they were in another tug of war, which shouldn’t have been anywhere near even but was with the remnants of Solomon’s shields up rebounding a portion of Sam’s magic back at him, forcing him to defend himself at the same time as he was attacking. Still, he persisted, putting as much of himself as he could manage into his assault, forcing Solomon to put everything into defending, into relying on his spell circle to eventually save him. 

Forcing him not to pay attention to the naked, emaciated young prisoner who’d snuck into the room behind Sam and snuck closer to the throne, holding a crossbow that he’d picked up off the floor outside. 

Sam heard the snap and a gasp from Solomon, and the barrier disappeared. 

And Sam giggled. “Thanks, Henry.” 

“You…” Henry sounded distant. The fighting in the rest of the room, what was left of it, had stopped. “Don’t pretend you planned it this way.”

Sam hadn’t, though he had made sure to show Henry where the barrier started so he’d know how close to get. “I was curious when I heard you come in. If you’d point it at me or dad. I knew I could trust you to do the right thing.” Sam reached out and felt Henry with his magic, felt the crossbow. And he knocked it aside, lest it accidentally get fired off again.

A ball of fire shot towards Henry from the throne, and Sam reached out a hand with a small shout, pushing Henry back to avoid it. It hit the wall and dissipated. 

“You’re pathetic, daddy,” Sam said, inexplicably angry as he picked his way across the rubble carefully and climbed up to the throne. Solomon was still breathing, rasps that were already growing shorter. Sam wondered where Henry had hit him. 

“You couldn’t…even kill me,” Solomon managed. “You had to…get your toy to do it.”

“And you got your guards to hide behind a shield to shoot me while you hid behind _them_ ,” Sam reminded him. “And you spent years terrorizing a child who couldn’t fight back because you could. Well, now you can’t fight back.”

A surge of magic and Sam prepared for an attack, but that wasn’t what it was, and he reached out as soon as he noticed and seized Solomon’s power, overwhelming it with a flow of Chaos that banished all other magic and cancelled the teleportation spell. “No, I don’t think so. You don’t get a strategic retreat. You don’t get to run and hide in a hole. You’re done now.” He put his hand on dad’s chest, moving it around, looking for the bolt Henry had shot into him.

“You’ll never maintain power.” Solomon’s voice was fading. “They’ll kill you within a year. If you don’t kill yourself throwing that power around before you know what it is.”

Rocks shifted as Henry made his way up the steps, but Sam ignored him, found the bolt. Twisted it. “I’m going to take everything you built, everything you spent all that time on, and I’m going to drive it all into the ground. Don’t worry, you’re not going to live to see it. I’m not stupid. You should be grateful, I’m not even going to torture you. You’re just going to die, here on the chair that you built for yourself. And then I’m going to take it. I think Henry wants to give you some prattling speech about justice before you go, too.”

There was silence for just a moment. “You deserve a lot worse than that,” Henry said finally. “You got a lot better than you gave to my parents.”

Solomon laughed while Sam tried not to sigh. It would be a shame to ruin this nice moment for Henry. “You speak as if I should remember your parents, boy. Like as not they were just peasants, just in the way. If they’d stayed quiet and obeyed, they’d have been fine.”

“They were the Lord and Lady Arkhewer!” Henry’s voice hitched. “You burned them alive because they wouldn’t cede land to you. And my sister…” He broke off, crying.

Solomon laughed one more time. “All of this, for him, Samson?”

“We’re friends.” Sam smiled, even though Henry was being stupid. “I’m past having to explain anything to you, Solomon. I’m the king, now.”

“You’re nothing,” Solomon spat. 

Sam reached up, put his hands around his dad’s neck. “I’m the _king_ ,” he repeated.

“No matter how much you say it, it won’t be true.”

“Say it,” Sam said, tightening his grip. “Say I’m the king, dad.”

“I’ll see you hell, son.”

“Say it!” Sam demanded, squeezing, squeezing. “Say I’m the king!” 

But Solomon didn’t. He didn’t say anything, going limp in Sam’s hands. 

“He’s dead,” Henry said quietly beside him. 

“I know that.” Sam sighed, annoyed. He straightened, turned to Henry, acutely aware that Henry could see him now. Normally that didn’t bother him. “Congratulations, you completed your mission.” He put his hands awkwardly on Henry’s shoulders, not used to them both standing up. Henry was taller than him. 

“It’s empty,” Henry reported, voice changing. “I thought it would feel like something. But it doesn’t.”

“It will, once it sets in.” Sam pulled Henry close, turned him to he was facing Solomon’s body, and gave him a push to he stumbled forward and had to brace himself on the arms of the throne. And Sam undid his pants.

“Your majesty!” One of the guards called out from below. Sam could hear rustling. “Your loyal guards have won the battle. We pledge our loyalty to you.”

“Just a minute.” Sam called down, pushing into Henry, who let him in with a whimper. “Don’t close your eyes,” he said, as he thrust. “Look down at him. You did that. This is what you wanted, Henry. And you got it. You’re welcome.” 

“It’s…you’re just as bad.”

“Worse, probably.” Sam smiled. “But at least you’re out of the dungeon. You’ll have a whole castle to explore. Think of what we can do now that we’re both free of him.”

“I should have shot you.”

“But you didn’t.” Sam had been honestly unsure of what Henry would do. The room smelled like fear and death. “I’m glad. Now we can be together. At least for as long as you’ll last.”

“I…I…” Henry started crying again. He’d been doing a lot of that lately. 

“You should be happy, Henry,” Sam chided, feeling his orgasm build already. Good thing, with how tired he was. “It’s a day for celebration. You know what they say. The king is dead. _Long live the king_.”


	11. Periods Following Revolutions Are for Recuperation and Restructuring

“The masons say it will take them two months to complete the repairs to the castle…”

“I want it done in two weeks,” Sam interrupted.

“Your Majesty, I’m not sure they can do that.” Sam didn’t know if Benny always sounded so nervous or if he was made nervous by Sam. He hadn’t been too nervous to beat the old master of servants to death with a candlestick a few days ago. 

“I’m sure they can if they try.” Sam smiled. “Have their children brought in to the castle to watch the construction. I have a feeling that will make them work faster.”

“Yes, your Majesty. Um, a lot of the guards were killed in the fighting.” 

“I know that.” Sam made a left turn. Two more turns and a door, a hundred and nine steps, and he’d be at his bedroom. His new bedroom. It wasn’t as familiar a walk as the one he was used to. “I killed some of them.”

“Yes, your Majesty. The guard captain says they don’t have enough people any more.”

“I’m sure they can go recruiting in the nearby towns.” Sam shook his head. He hadn’t realized that being king meant he was going to have to do everything by himself. People really were too stupid to live their own lives, honestly. “There must be plenty of people who’d be happy to get a sword and some steady pay.” And stupid enough not to realize that their families would be used as collateral if they took those things.

“I’ll tell them, your Majesty.” 

“The old guard—are any of them still hanging on?” 

Benny paused for a moment. “I believe two of them still are, your Majesty.”

“I should pay them a visit.” Sam didn’t really care. He’d had any guards who had fought for dad and lived nailed to the walls of the castle, along with dad’s body and those of a few others in the castle he didn’t like. There were lots of people around; he wasn’t too worried about a few who weren’t going to live much longer. 

“Yes, your Majesty.”

“Have you found my brother and sister yet?” 

“Um…” That Benny didn’t say anything more was answer enough.

Sam sighed. “If you’re not going to use your tongue, I can always take it out for you.” There were plenty of servants here who’d be happy to take the role of master of servants, Sam was sure. 

“Nobody knows where they are, your Majesty!” The words came out a tumble. “There are no records of where your—of where Solomon sent them. He must have been the only one who knew.” 

Sam felt frustration tug at his throat, and there was a crack nearby, power fluttering in response. It was still new, this power that came from being bonded with the stone. He’d broken a lot of things by accident. “Well, I guess that gives you something to do, doesn’t it?” 

“Yes, your Majesty.”

“I want them to come back here so we can reunite. It’s been so long since I’ve seen them.” Sam had cells prepared for them in the dungeons, special ones that he’d cast spells on to restrain any magic. 

“Yes, your Majesty.”

Didn’t he know how to say anything else? “You’re boring. Go away.”

“Yes, your Majesty.” Benny paused again. “But…”

“What?” Irritated now, Sam took a breath. The hallways still smelled faintly like the blood that had stained them a week ago.

“What about the woman, your Majesty?”

Sam didn’t answer, just kept walking. Benny was smart enough to stay quiet. 

They reached the doors of Sam’s bedroom and he put a hand on the handle, pushing it open. “I haven’t decided yet,” he said finally. “Henry.” 

“I’m right here.” 

Sam knew that Henry was right there—he’d been told to wait in the room. “What do you think I should do about—what’s her name?”

“Daisy.” 

“About _Daisy_.” Sam sneered her name. The woman they’d found in dad’s room after the fight.

The _pregnant_ woman they’d found in dad’s room. 

It had been Henry who’d convinced Sam not to eviscerate her on the spot. 

“What do I think?” Henry repeated, dumbly.

“Yes, that’s what I said—you’re the one who wanted her kept alive. Do you still want that? Or have you changed your mind?” When Henry didn’t answer, Sam sighed, sweeping into the room. He put his hand out in the direction of where he knew there would be a wooden chair and sat in it. “Here—I promise that I’ll do whatever you think is best when it comes to her, okay? Just tell me what you think.”

Sam had to admit, he was glad he’d let Henry beg him not to do it. The idea of taking that baby—dad’s baby, Sam’s sibling, was appealing. He hadn’t decided if he wanted to raise it or not, but it would have been a shame to just kill it before it could be born. 

“I think…” Henry’s voice was dull, and it seemed a lot quieter above ground than it had in the dungeons. “You shouldn’t kill her. She hasn’t done anything to you and neither has the baby.”

Sam couldn’t help but smile a little. There were things about Henry that really hadn’t changed—yet. “Okay. You heard Henry, Benny. Make sure she’s taken care of. And I want to know when the baby’s born.” 

Sorcerers did need clans, after all. Maybe he would keep the baby alive. 

“Yes, your Majesty.” 

“Get out,” Sam said, tired of him. “I don’t want to hear you until tomorrow.” He didn’t really want to hear from Benny ever again—it was exhausting, having to spend half his day deciding stupid things like who the new head chef was going to be. Why should Sam care?

“Yes, your Majesty.” And Sam heard that, so Benny wasn’t very good at following orders. But Sam didn’t bother punishing him for that now—he had a feeling he’d get annoyed and kill Benny in the next day or so. But if he did it here, there’d be blood all over the room and he’d have to put up with servants coming in to clean it up. 

The door closed behind Benny, and Sam sighed. “Being the king is a lot of work.” 

Henry didn’t answer that. 

“Maybe I can get you to make all the stupid decisions,” Sam continued, tapping a finger on the arm of the wooden chair. “You know me well enough to know what kind of decisions I’d make, right?” He smiled. “I’m sure if I can trust you not to shoot me with a crossbow, I can trust you not to turn my castle into something I’d hate.” 

“Yeah,” Henry muttered. “I guess you can.”

He managed to fit so much self-loathing into those five words. It was delightful to hear. “I don’t understand why you’re so unhappy, Henry.” Sam stretched out his shoulders. “This is what we wanted, isn’t it? Dad’s dead, I’m king, you’re out of the dungeon. The bed in here must be a lot more comfortable than the stone floor down there.” It was actually a little soft for Sam’s liking.

Henry made a little noise, but didn’t say anything. 

“I can’t read your mind, Henry,” Sam reminded him. 

“This isn’t…” Henry trailed off, and Sam patiently waited for him to pick it back up. “Why are you pretending so hard?”

“Pretending, am I?” Sam asked, giggling a little. He stood from the chair, made his way to the bed, where he lay down. “What am I pretending?”

“That I care. You know I hate you—and you made sure I wasn’t afraid to say it out loud.” 

“Did I?”

“It’s not like you can do anything worse to me that what you’ve already done,” Henry said, quietly. “There’s no point in me holding back any more.”

“Hm.” Sam had a feeling that wasn’t true. He had ideas. “Snakes have to shed their skin every so often, you know. It’s healthy, for them to get rid of what they used to be like that.” 

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Now that you’re not trapped in the dungeon it’ll be much easier for me to help you shed your skin, Henry. You already have—we both have, I guess—but you should again. I should have known you’d be too stupid to see it as a good thing, though. Don’t worry, I’ll help.”

“I don’t want your help.”

“Going to sit there and plot to escape now?” Sam asked him. “Get away from the new Sorcerer King? Or maybe kill me, which you’d better do if you plan to run and get anywhere.” A search of Henry’s cell afterwards hadn’t turned up the knife Sam had left down there ages ago. “Except you’ve been sleeping in my bed for a week now and you haven’t even thought about putting the pillow over my face, have you?”

“I…of course I have. But you’d stop me.”

“I would,” Sam agreed. “Well, keep trying. We’ll make it a game. You try to figure out a way to kill me. I’ll be making you into what I want you to be in the meantime. We’ll see which of us gets what we want.” 

Except if Henry had so much as considered putting a pillow over Sam’s face while he slept rather than facing him in honourable combat, then Sam had already won. 

Henry snorted. “And what, in the meantime you’ll just keep pretending that we’re best friends?” 

“Henry, I’m insulted,” Sam said to the ceiling. “You can pretend you don’t care about me, but don’t ignore how much I care about you.” Nobody have ever interested Sam the way Henry did. 

“You…” Henry cut himself off. With an audible sigh, he came over to the bed and sat opposite Sam. “You’re insane.”

“I wonder.” Sam did, sometimes. “I think now that we’re out in the real world, you’ll learn to appreciate me a lot more, Henry.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re lucky that your stubbornness is something that I find attractive in you. Come here.” Henry did as he was told, and that itself was the only reason Sam had asked him to do it. He crawled across the bed, sitting beside Sam. Sam pulled him down onto his back, and put his head on Henry’s shoulder. Clothed now, sadly. He hadn’t wanted people to have that kind of access to Henry. “You’re going to be my bodyguard starting tomorrow,” he told Henry. “You can stand beside the throne with your sword and be all intimidating. I think you’ll like it.”

“You afraid someone’s going to try and kill you?” Henry asked. 

“No. But it just seems proper, and it will give you something to do. I’m having a guest soon. Lord Hans diFuerre. He’s on his way to the castle to visit dad.”

“Don’t kill him.”

“Hm.” Sam smiled. “See, if you want me to do things like that, you’re going to have to give a little ground too, Henry. Life’s a compromise.”

Henry didn’t say anything for a long time. “What do you want? Not saying I’m going to do it, just…”

Sam had a feeling that it would never cease to be cute that Henry thought he wasn’t going to do something that Sam wanted him to. “Benny.”

“You want Benny?”

“I want you to kill Benny,” Sam clarified. 

“What…”

“I’m going to kill him anyway. If you do it for me, I’ll let Lord Hans live. Plus, you know I’ll kill him painfully. If you do it, I’m sure you’ll go out of your way to make sure it’s humane and painless. It’s a win-win for you, really.” 

Henry was silent for a long time again. 

“Well?”

“I…”

Sam smiled.

“I can’t,” Henry said quietly. “I can’t just murder someone like that.”

“You murdered dad.”

“That was different.”

“Not really.” Sam sighed, nestled a little into Henry. “Okay. You’re still new to this, so I’ll think of something else and let you know.” 

“What, really?” Henry paused for a second. “I’m not stupid. You’re going to think up something worse and then tell me it’s my fault when you kill Hans.”

“I guess we’ll find out when we get there, won’t we?” Sam asked, taking one of Henry’s hands in his. “If Benny dies between now and then, you won’t have to find out.” 

“I’m not.”

“Okay.”

Henry hadn’t sounded as confident that time as he had before, Sam noticed. He should be bored, playing a game that he’d already won, but he wasn’t, not at all. This was going to be fun.


	12. Games Are Easier to Win if You’re the One Deciding the Rules

It didn’t seem to matter how many cushions Sam had put on his throne, it stayed just as uncomfortable as it had been the first time he’d sat down on it. 

Still, kings didn’t squirm, so neither did he, even as he thought about getting a new chair made. This one was dad’s anyway. As much as Sam liked the idea of ruling from the throne Solomon had died in, he wasn’t sure his back could handle it. 

But that wasn’t going to happen today. Sam sat straight, hands rested on the arms of the throne, as Lord Hans was led into the hastily-repaired throne room. The number of footfalls said he hadn’t come alone, which Sam had expected. There were some nice spells around the door that, if Hans’s friends happened to be magic practitioners, would react automatically to put a stop to that. He could feel Henry beside him, doing everything he could to stay still. 

Sam had made clear that he’d have to kill anyone who didn’t find a proper king in him, and that it would be a shame if Henry’s refusal to cooperate were to be what had caused that. 

The footfalls came to a stop just past the second pair of columns. “Lord Hans diFueure of Hawk’s Roost, your Majesty,” his crier said. She was a young girl, the daughter of someone or other. Her voice was annoying, but it was loud, and that was the main thing that a crier needed. 

“How nice of you to come and visit me, Lord Hans,” Sam said, smiling down at where the visitors were. 

“I’d come to see the supposed Sorcerer King.” Lord Hans’s voice was a grumble that sounded affected. He sounded like the kind of man who would squeal before hollering. He had given a good long pause before answering. “But I’m guessing I saw him out there on the wall, didn’t I?”

“I can’t speak for what you saw,” Sam told him, aware that at this distance, Hans must be able to tell that Sam didn’t see. “But yes, I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know that the dreadful threat posed by my father has been put to rest forever. I’ll accept your thanks for that.”

“A rather gruesome end, to be nailed to a wall.”

“He was dead before he was put up there, I assure you.” Sam cocked his head a little. “In any case, you can talk to me, can’t you?”

“I suppose I can, lad.”

Sam frowned. Henry tensed beside him. “The normal style for kings is ‘your Majesty,’ or ‘your Grace,’ Lord Hans. Given your status, I’ll also accept ‘sire.’”

“There’s only one king in Kyaine, sorcerer.” 

“Yes, how is he doing?” Sam asked, stretching a little despite himself. “When you go home, do let him know that I’ve got the Fury Plateau under control, will you? If you like, I’ll even give you my father’s body as a show of good faith. If you’d like to pretend you’re the one who made him a body, I won’t stop you.” 

“If you’re truly interested in a peaceful coexistence, you’ll cede all land your father seized and bow to the authority of the crown, young man.”

“ _Your Majesty_ ,” Sam corrected, some irritation slipping into his voice. “And you seem to have misunderstood, Hans. I’m not interested in peaceful coexistence. If your brother—or his wife, rather—sends armies anywhere near my territory, I’ll send them back in small, easily transported pieces.” 

That tensed the room up some, a buzz seeming to fill the air between Sam and Hans. “Your father lived as long as he did because he didn’t actively threaten the crown, boy.” Hans growled. “You’d best abide by the same lesson if you’d like to live to see another new year.” 

Beside Sam, Henry made an indistinguishable noise.

“Oh, dear.” Sam sighed, reached out. There were two people flanking Hans, and he lifted the one on the left into the air by the neck, listening to him struggle. “There seems to have been a misunderstanding at some point. Let me clarify which one of us here is the _king_ , Hans.”

True to Sam’s prediction, the second of Hans’s cronies reached for some magic—a power Sam couldn’t sense, which meant he was a wizard. Mage’s power stemmed from the Forces, and a lot of sorcerers could at least get a sense of where it was coming from. Some were even skilled enough to pass as mages for a short time, pretending to pull on the Pillars. Sam had never tried, himself. 

But it didn’t matter. The spell he’d put around the room was a similar wave of Chaos to what he’d used to block dad’s last failed attempt to flee. It washed over everything, infusing the air with a sting that blocked out all other magic but Sam’s. The wizard—it was a woman—let out a shout when it struck her, and Sam smiled again. “None of you is that smart, are you?” The stone was humming contentedly in Sam’s pocket. 

“Put him down,” Hans demanded, voice going a bit higher now.

“Very well.” Sam did, and the man’s flesh caught fire the moment he hit the ground. 

For a very long moment the room was filled with the sound of agony as the man burned to death. Sam smiled and listened to it, before it was rather abruptly cut off. The room smelled like burnt meat and ashes. “Now,” Sam said. “I promised my friend that I wouldn’t kill you, Hans. People with you were not included in that promise. Why don’t we start over? Greetings, Lord Hans of Hawk’s Roost. I’m Sam—the Sorcerer King.” 

The only sound in the throne room for a long moment was the quiet smouldering of flesh and the occasional pop of fat or bone marrow. Sam sat there patiently, waiting to hear how much Hans valued the life of his remaining wizard.

Hopefully not much. Sam’s power very badly wanted to be used again. One thing that had changed since binding the stone to him was that he never had to fight it back anymore—it never tried to take control, instead letting Sam hold the reins. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t demanding. 

It was a very pregnant silence, and one carried fully to term before Hans cleared his throat. “Thank you, your Majesty,” he said, and Sam grinned. “Thank you for your…hospitality.”

“Of course. I’m always happy to have guests. I’ve had rooms prepared for you and your people, you can stay with us for a while. Landon.” Sam gestured vaguely. He didn’t know where his new guard captain was standing. “Why don’t you escort Lord Hans and his retainer to their rooms. We’ll reconvene at dinner for a nice chat.”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

“Ensure that the rest of his party is cared for as well. I won’t be accused of being a poor host.”

“Of course, sire.”

“Your Majesty,” Hans cut in. He sounded queasy. “My people—they’ve no part in any of this. There’s no reason to…”

“On the contrary, Lord Hans,” Sam interrupted. “They’re very much a part. You should know as well as anyone that servants make good playing pieces. We’ll talk again at dinner.” 

Landon led the spluttering Hans out of the throne room, and Sam slouched a little in the throne. He reached out and found Henry’s wrist, squeezed it. “That went well, I think.”

“I’m surprised you let him live.”

“I promised you I would,” Sam reminded him. Hans, Sam suspected, would very much live to resent that Henry had bargained for his life. “And now for your part.” He raised his voice. “Bring in my next guest.”

The doors opened and there were more footfalls, this time hurried, and someone was thrown down on the floor in front of Sam. “Kill him,” Sam said to Henry.

“What? I…I can’t.”

“Yes, yes.” Sam waved a hand, uninterested. “You can’t kill an innocent person, I know. How many people have you killed, exactly?”

“Seven, but…”

“It’s different; they were evil, I know.” Sam sighed. Henry probably had all of their names and faces committed to memory. “You,” he said to the main, who was audibly cowering. “Tell my friend what you told me earlier.”

“Sire, your Majesty, please,” the man begged. “Spare me. I can’t, I don’t, I didn’t. Please, spare me.”

“You’re not making much of a case for yourself,” Sam told the man. He wondered what his name was. “Now tell Henry what you told me earlier.”

“I don’t…” the man whimpered, and just as Sam was about to hit him or something he started talking again. “All I did was tie the knots, that’s all.”

“Which knots, exactly?” Sam asked, hand still around Henry’s wrist. 

“The knots…I swear, I didn’t try to let them escape. I tied them as hard as I could, the knots on Lady Arkhewer’s wrists. It wasn’t my fault she got out of them. And she didn’t get far, they caught her. She must have broken her own fingers to get out of them, they were good knots, I swear.” The man was crying now.

Sam smiled.

“You…” Henry whispered, and suddenly his wrist was shaking in Sam’s hand. Henry hadn’t nearly gained back all the muscle he’d lost in captivity, so he was still quite gaunt. When he was strong again, Sam wouldn’t be able to hold him like this. “You were there when the Lord and Lady Arkhewer were burned alive?” he asked the man.

“Yes, sir,” the man promised, tears in his voice. The best part of this was that Sam hadn’t even had to fabricate something—there were a few people around who remembered that little incident. Very useful. “She tried to escape, to free her daughter. But it wasn’t because the knots were bad, I swear. I just never thought she’d be stupid enough to break her own fingers to get out of them.”

“It didn’t occur to you?” Henry had gone nicely dark all of the sudden, “that she might try to rescue her daughter?”

“Of course it did, sir. I just, it’s not my fault, I swear. She didn’t get far anyway, only a few steps before they jumped on her.”

Sam let go of Henry’s wrist.

Henry took a step forward, and then another one. And the sword Sam had given him—Terry’s sword, recovered from Herbert’s body—came out of the sheath, a swallow of metal emerging into the air. 

“Please, please. It won’t happen again. I’ll tie them better next time, I’ll learn better knots, please…”

“No,” Henry said, voice getting farther from Sam, closer to the grovelling man. “It won’t happen again.”

“Please, please, please. I won’t, I swear, I’ll do better, I will, please…” The man’s litany filled the air now, a pathetic warbling that Sam wanted to put a stop to himself. But this was Henry’s moment, so he waited, tapping his finger on the arm of the throne. 

Henry took a good long time standing over the man, sword drawn. Was it up in the air, prepared to strike? Or hanging uselessly at his side? Either seemed likely to Sam, but there was no way to be sure until something happened. The man begged and groveled and soiled himself, and Henry stood there, not moving or acting or doing anything, not saying anything. Wrestling with himself. Was it okay to kill this person? This man who’d helped kill his mother?

It was a stupid game Henry was playing, one Sam wasn’t that interested in. But just as he started to get bored, there came a sudden shriek, a holler, a squelching sound and a spray of liquid. And a thud as the man fell dead onto the throne room floor. 

Sam chuckled, getting up and making his way down the steps from the dais, heading slowly over to where he could hear Henry’s laboured breathing. “I guess that’s eight,” he said, as he drew closer. “Lord Hans will get that supper after all.”

“Are there more?” Henry asked quietly. “Are there more of them in the castle?”

“People who were there?” Sam put a hand on Henry’s arm again. “Yes. Would you like to meet them?”

Silence for a second. “Yes,” Henry said after that second.

“I can burn them alive if you like,” Sam offered. “Justice.”

“No.” Henry tensed. “I’ll do it.” 

“Fine.” Sam sighed, leaned up and kissed Henry on the cheek. “Good job.”

“I didn’t do it for you.”

“No, but you still killed someone in cold blood, didn’t you?” Sam hugged Henry’s arm for a moment before pulling away. “A defenceless, tied-up prisoner.”

“He helped them kill my parents.”

“That’s a justification,” Sam told him. “Those get easier as you do it more. And eventually you don’t need to hide behind them. You’ll get there.”

“You’re just making it easier for me to do to you someday.”

“Am I?” Sam asked, turning away. The room smelled like death. “Get someone to clean this up. I’m going to go cast some spells to make sure that wizard of Hans’s doesn’t try anything stupid.” 

“It wasn’t right,” Henry called after him. “Just then, what I did. It wasn’t the right thing to do.”

Of course it had been. “But you did it anyway, Henry.”

“Yeah.” A sliding of metal as the sword went back into the sheath. Henry sounded hollow. “I did.”


	13. Confidence Is Easy When You’re in Total Control of Everyone Around You

The smell of earth and old blood filled the air around the centipede pit. Sam breathed it in, leaning on the rusty railing that enclosed it as he waited. 

“What actually keeps them in?” Henry asked, shifting a little beside Sam. “They can climb up the wall, can’t they?”

“They can.” Sam tapped his foot, running some power into the ground so that the containment spell that circled the pit would glow in its inscriptions in the stone, visible to Henry for a moment. “If they try to pass that barrier they catch fire. Only a few of them tried and then the rest never have.”

“I didn’t know bugs were that smart.”

“There are a lot of things you don’t know,” Sam told Henry consolingly. He knew Henry was probing for information. It was cute, so Sam decided to give him a little. “They’re not normal bugs. They’re imbued with sorcery.”

“Your dad made them?”

Sam was quiet for a second, thinking about that. Nobody in the castle called Solomon Sam’s father anymore. Except for Henry. He wondered what that meant. Why Henry thought he could get away with that. Why Sam let him. “No. At least, I don’t think so. He found a nest of them somewhere and brought them here.”

Henry started another question—wise, since Sam was in the mood to answer—but he was interrupted by some footsteps, two pairs of heavy boots clomping on the floor, and a third, less enthusiastic. “Ah, Lord Hans is here,” Sam said, waving for the guards to bring Hans over. “I thought you might want to see this.” 

“Some dirt?” Hans asked him. “Is this a fighting pit?” He was quiet for a moment. “No, the earth is too disturbed, and full of holes besides. Something lives down there, no?”

“Yes.” Sam could hear more footfalls now, coming down from the other side. There were a lot of them. “You’ll soon see what.”

The other set of guards came closer, and the stench of death mingled with the rest of the odours in the air. “My word,” Hans muttered. Beside Sam, Henry tensed. 

“I feel they’ve been serving as wall ornaments long enough,” Sam told him, as the guards filed in with the bodies of Solomon and all the others who’d been nailed to the walls outside. “And they were starting to fall apart, which is a waste of good meat.”

“As you say, your Majesty.” Lord Hans sounded a faint. 

“You sound ill, my lord.” Sam smiled. “If you’d like to go lay down somewhere that’s fine. I thought it might be nice to show you this, but if you’re not interested…”

“No, no. I shall stay.” Hans was very quick to say that. 

“Good.” Sam pointed towards the pit. “Toss them in.”

The guards did, and Sam heard moving and hefting and a series of thumps, some squishier than others. And a moment later, a lot of clicking. 

The clicking got louder as the centipedes emerged in their hundreds, swarming over the bodies and devouring them with single-minded hunger. It went on for several minutes, the clicking being added to by a slough of flesh tearing, splatters of liquid. 

Then it was done. The clicking died down as most of the centipedes disappeared back into the nest, though a few remained aboveground, skittering about. “Only bones left…” Lord Hans muttered to himself. 

“They’ll eat those as well,” Sam promised. Beside him, Henry had put his hands on the railing, and Sam covered one in his own. Henry was gripping the railing tight, as if worried he would fall. “Given some time. But with all that meat, they won’t be hungry for a few days.” Sam paused, squeezing Henry’s hand a little. “Of course, they like fresh meat better than old rotted meat. Bring him in,” he said. 

One of the guards went to the door and opened it, and in came two more stomping sets of boots, this time with something dragging in between them. “I believe this man belongs to you, doesn’t he?” Sam asked. 

“What?” Hans moved, and then was silent for a moment before turning back to face Sam. “What is the meaning of this—you told me my servants wouldn’t be harmed if I cooperated with you!” 

That wasn’t what Sam had said. “Indeed,” he agreed. “So perhaps you can explain to me why this man was caught trying to send a message to Hawk’s Roost.” 

The man was gagged, and made a series of sounds. “Let him speak,” Sam ordered the guard.

A moment later the man took several gasping breaths. “Lord Hans never told me to send that message. You leave him out of this, you little psycho!”

“You’re not helping your case much,” Henry said quietly. He hadn’t turned around. 

To his credit, Hans didn’t try to deny the man’s crime. “If you’ve already caught him, then no harm was done. I’ll make sure all of my people know not to do any such foolish thing, and…”

“No, _I’ll_ make sure they know,” Sam interrupted. “You’ve a lot of servants, I’m sure you won’t miss this one. And I need you to understand that I am to be taken seriously. If I tell you not to do something, I do mean it, Lord Hans.” 

“I won’t stand for harm to come to my people, Sorcerer King.”

“I’m happy to feed you to the centipedes in his place.” 

The silence that fell after that was a bit funny, so Sam giggled. “I didn’t think so.”

“No! You can’t throw me in there! Don’t…”

“Shut him up.” There was a punch, and the man stopped talking. “Now, here’s what’s going to happen,” Sam went on. “He’s going to die, and the centipedes will eat him. Henry, you can decide what order those two things happen in.”

“What?”

“If you’d like, you can take his head off, or stab him in the heart or something equally humane. Or you can keep your hands clean and watch him be eaten alive. I leave the choice to you.” 

“You can’t…”

“Yes, I can. And so can you. You’re at eleven now, aren’t you?” Sam had introduced Henry to a few more people who’d been there to watch the Arkhewers burn. “It should be easy by now.”

“It’s…” Henry’s hand tensed under Sam’s. The man behind them was making a lot of obnoxious noise. 

“Please, young man,” Lord Hans interrupted, voice hoarse. “You must…you must do the right thing. Nobody deserves to die eaten alive like that. Please.”

Sam let go of Henry’s hand. 

Henry was quiet beside him for a minute, except for his breathing, which was heavy. Then he turned, and steel rang out. 

“Do the right thing, lad,” Lord Hans pleaded, and Sam wondered if he thought he was being subtle. 

There was a liquid sound, a gasp from the gagged prisoner, and Henry stepped back. Sam reached out and patted him on the arm. Lord Hans didn’t say anything. 

The guards tossed the man’s body into the pit with a thud and the clicking came back, over more quickly this time as there was less meat to get at. “There, that’s dealt with,” Sam said with a tired sigh. “Do impress upon your people the importance of behaving, Lord Hans.”

“I…I shall, your Majesty.”

“Good.” Sam’s tone was dismissive, and the guards escorted Lord Hans out. On the other side of the door, Sam could hear retching. 

He turned to Henry. “You did well. Good work.” And he leaned up and gave Henry a kiss on the cheek. 

“Lord Hans hoped I would stab you.”

“I know. I’m glad you didn’t.” Henry did still have his sword out, though. “You’re welcome to use the pit, by the way. If you ever meet someone you don’t feel deserves a nice humane death.”

“Like you?”

Sam smiled. “I look forward to the day you work up the nerve to try, Henry.”


	14. For Some People, Playing Pretend Is More Than a Game

“I’m going to bed,” Sam said, setting aside the talisman he’d been working on. 

There was a sudden clatter of metal as Todd knocked something in the corner. Sam ignored it. “Okay,” Henry said dully, from the chair opposite Sam. Henry’s voice was often dull these days, which didn’t bother Sam overly. 

“Come over here and undress me for bed,” Sam ordered Todd, who’d been in here cleaning the room and annoying him. Even when he was trying to be quiet, he couldn’t help but make too much noise. 

“Yes, your Majesty,” the boy muttered, and Sam heard his footsteps cross the room. Sam stood and moved out from behind the chair, closer to the bed. He waited for Todd to reach him and held out his arms.

“I can do it, Sam.”

“You can let Todd do his job, Henry,” Sam told him, noting that Henry’s voice was a little more animate that time. 

That gave him an idea, and that idea made Sam hard, but he just stood there for now and let Todd pull his arms out of his sleeves and his shirt over his head. It took a few minutes since his arm was in plaster so he only had the one to use. 

Todd reached out to do Sam’s pants, paused just perceptibly. But he grabbed the laces, started to undo them.

Sam put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him to his knees, where Todd went with a whimper. “You can reach better from down there,” he said with a smile. 

“Thank you, your Majesty.” Todd whispered, and he started awkwardly unlacing Sam’s pants. 

“Sam…” Henry said, and Sam heard him stand. 

“Henry.” Sam didn’t need to say more than that, because Henry knew it was one thing for him to speak that way in private, but if he did it when someone else was around there would be consequences. Sam had never had to actually show Henry the consequences yet, but Henry seemed to have figured it out without the demonstration. “You should undress too.” 

Henry let out an agitated breath, but he complied. 

Todd got Sam’s pants undone and pulled them down, waiting for Sam to step out of them. Sam did, moving forward so his erection was pressed against Todd’s face. Todd froze, and Sam smacked his head. “I’m standing here because I still have clothes on, idiot.”

“Sorry, your Majesty!” Todd said in a strained voice. He reached up with his one good arm and tugged at Sam’s smallclothes, pulling until they came down, freeing Sam’s cock. It sprang out and hit Todd in the cheek, and Sam almost giggled. Todd pulled his smallclothes all the way down and Sam lifted his legs out of them, arm darting out and seizing Todd’s hair as he tried to move away.

“You’ve been awfully quiet these last few weeks, Todd,” Sam told him, taking his cock in hand and jerking Todd’s head into position so Sam could rub himself against Todd’s lips. “Something on your mind?”

“Sam.” Henry’s voice had a tone of warning to it now, and a tone of pleading, all at once. 

“You used to talk to much,” Sam continued, ignoring Henry. Todd was whimpering. “I thought we were such good friends. Don’t you like me anymore?”

“I…” Todd let out a little sob, and he was crying but trying to be quiet. Sam resisted the urge to ram his cock right into Todd’s stupid mouth the moment it opened. 

“You what?”

“Sam.” Henry sounded a lot closer now. “Stop.”

“No. I’m in the mood for a blowjob, Henry. And Todd’s in the mood not to have his other arm broken.”

“I’ll do it, Sam. Leave him alone.” 

Sam smiled, but not widely. “You don’t really want to do that, Henry, and we both know it.” Todd was still silently crying in front of Sam’s erection. “Just let him do it for you.”

“No! I…do want to do it, Sam. Please, let him go,” Henry pleaded. 

Sam sighed. “You don’t, you’re a bad liar, and if I’m going to rape someone I want it to be someone who’ll _cry_ , Henry. You’ll just suffer in silence and make me do all the work.” 

“I’m not lying!” Henry said fiercely, his hands suddenly on Sam’s shoulders, forcing him to turn away. “I want to do it.”

“Make me believe that, Henry,” Sam told him, since Henry wasn’t getting the hint without direct instruction, as usual.

Henry was silent for a moment and the only noise was the sound of Todd’s efforts not to bawl like a baby. There was an audible swallow, and Henry took a breath. “Please, Sam. I want to blow you. I’ve been thinking about it all day. I need to taste you, you haven’t—you’ve been so busy that you’ve barely touched me the last few days. I really just need to have you, Sam. So don’t…don’t give it to him. Don’t let him have what’s mine, please?”

As he listened to that, Sam’s smile grew. “That was much better, Henry. Almost realistic.” He tossed Todd aside, heard him hit the floor. “Get out.”

“Thank you,” Todd managed to say, and Sam heard him scramble to get to his feet and then to the door, which opened. 

“Todd?”

He paused, and Sam almost laughed. He was so stupid. “Yes, your Majesty?” he whispered. 

“Tell the kitchen that if my breakfast is burnt again tomorrow I’m going to come down there myself.” 

“Yes, your Majesty.” Todd whimpered, and the door shut. 

Sam snorted, crossed his arms. “Well? Pretty sure I heard you insist on blowing me just now, Henry?”

“You don’t want to sit?”

“If I wanted to sit I would be,” Sam told him, exasperated. “I want you on your knees. Get over here.” 

“Okay.” Henry exhaled loudly, and Sam heard the thump as he got down where he’d been told. His hands wrapped around Sam’s cock, and his breath fell hot on Sam’s skin. “You’re always bigger than I remember,” he muttered quietly. 

“You’re still talking,” Sam told him. 

“You know, some people like to set a certain mood for stuff like this,” Henry told him, breath a little closer now. 

“I don’t care what some people like.” Sam thrust his hips forward a bit, hit Henry’s nose with his cock. “And what would you know? The only person you’ve done ‘stuff like this’ with is me and I don’t.”

Henry huffed a little. “I’ve been thinking of this all day,” he muttered, oddly quiet all of the sudden. “Don’t ruin it for me.”

Before Sam could ask why Henry felt the need to tell that particular lie, Henry finally did what he’d promised and took Sam into his mouth. He slid his lips past about half of Sam’s erection, and made a bit of a satisfied noise as he did. Sam put a hand in Henry’s hair to steady himself against the sensation, suddenly thinking he shouldn’t have stayed standing after all. 

With one hand massaging the rest of Sam’s cock and the other rubbing his thigh around to the buttock, Henry sucked Sam lightly, using his tongue to explore Sam’s head. Sam tried to thrust forward, to get more of himself into Henry’s mouth, but Henry’s hand stopped him from getting far. 

This wasn’t the same as when he’d made Henry do this for him in the past. It wasn’t the way Sam normally wanted it—hard, fast, normally he just used Henry’s mouth for the hole it was, just something to stick his cock in—and part of Sam didn’t even feel like he was the one in control here. Henry was the one deciding how fast to go, and how much of Sam he was going to touch, and Sam should have _hated_ that, but he couldn’t make himself force Henry to do more in that moment. In that moment, Sam was happy to let Henry be in control. 

Henry made little moaning noises as he sucked on Sam, keeping it up with his tongue and his hands. Sam’s breath was coming in pants, and he realized after a second that some of the moaning he could hear in the room was his own. “Henry…” Sam called out, both hands on Henry’s head, more to brace himself than anything else. 

Sam came with a shout, bucking a little in Henry’s mouth as he filled it. Henry tightened his grip on Sam and held him in place, swallowing as Sam went until Sam had no more to give. Only then did Henry pull back, Sam’s hands slack in his hair, and he stood just as Sam’s knees buckled a bit, catching him. “I got you,” he muttered. 

Sam let Henry guide him to the bed and sit him down. He took a moment to breathe.

“Was it good?” Henry asked, sitting beside him. 

“It was,” Sam admitted, and then he chuckled. “Maybe I should threaten poor Todd more often.”

“Don’t.” Henry’s voice moved as if he’d turned his head away. “He’s a nice kid. You don’t need to terrorize him.”

“He’s an idiot,” Sam said, leaning back a little. “And a I don’t _need_ to terrorize anyone. It’s just fun. Plus, look where it got me tonight. I’d say it worked out well.”

“I’ll do it again if you want.” Henry sounded angry, but Sam had a feeling it was directed at himself. “You don’t need to hurt him.”

Sam smiled, crawling onto the bed properly and laying back against the pillows. He tugged Henry’s arm to get Henry to come with him. “No, I don’t,” he agreed, as Henry lay beside him. As instructed, Henry had taken off his clothes too. And he was hard, so Sam reached down to stroke him. “Because you’re going to protect him from me, aren’t you Henry?”

“Y-yeah…” Henry said, shuddering a little. 

“Just like you’re protecting Lord Hans, and Daisy and Benny…” Sam trailed off, stroking Henry harder. “You’re protecting so many people from me, Henry. You’re a hero.”

“No, I’m not…” Henry insisted, his breath coming heavy. 

No, he wasn’t. “Sure you are. Just think how much more dangerous I’d be if you weren’t here, offering yourself up every day in place of all the other people I might want to destroy. The whole world owes you its gratitude, Henry.” Sam’s voice got quieter and quieter as he jerked Henry off, until he was whispering in Henry’s ear. Henry came with a stifled cry, and Sam let him go. 

“I’m going to sleep now, goodnight, Henry.” Sam put his head on Henry’s shoulder and got comfortable, ignoring the mess he’d made on Henry’s chest. 

“Goodnight, Sam.” Henry whispered, shaking a little. Sam wondered if he was going to start crying. 

He didn’t, or at least he didn’t yet. “Oh, and Henry? Thank you.” 

Henry didn’t answer that, pretending to be asleep. His breathing gave him away, but Sam let him do it and he nestled a little, pulling a blanket over them. He didn’t fall asleep right away, thinking. He was thinking about that blow job Henry had just given him, and how good it had been. Henry had been lying, pretending to give Sam what he’d wanted. Sam knew that Henry hadn’t wanted that any more than he’d wanted anything else Sam had done to him. He’d raped Henry just as much tonight as he had any other time, and Sam knew that very well. 

But for a minute there at the end, Sam had been able to believe it. To believe that Henry really did want it. And he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to make of that. 

It was a long time before Sam fell asleep, but he pretended that he had and for a long time, the two of them lay there in the bed, pretending.


	15. Some People Don’t Take Surprises Well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the worldbuilding, I should mention in this chapter that the Fury Plateau where Sam lives lies directly south of a forest in which lives a certain clan of witches.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” 

“I…I’m not sure, your Majesty.”

Sam hated the sound of Daisy’s voice. She wasn’t a very young woman, probably about ten years younger than dad, but she had the nervous, high-pitched intonation of someone much younger, like someone Todd’s age. 

Sam wondered if that was something dad had liked about her.

“I thought this was the sort of thing that mothers knew,” Sam said, not taking his hand away from Daisy’s swollen belly. 

“I’ve…I’ve never been a mother before, your Majesty,” Daisy admitted. “Your fath…the Sorcerer King, he…he killed my husband, and…”

“His name was Solomon,” Sam said quietly, rubbing her belly. “He’s dead, Daisy. You don’t need to be afraid of him anymore.” She needed to be afraid of Sam. “It was terrible, what he’d done to you.” He’d probably raped her or something, Sam didn’t know. 

“He…”

“It’s okay,” Sam heard the fear in Daisy’s voice. He didn’t want her being afraid of Solomon anymore. Solomon wasn’t anything to be afraid of. If he had to play nice to make her realize that, he would. “He was my father, but he was a terrible person. The world’s better off with him dead.” 

“I…yes, you’re right, your Majesty.” 

“I make sure to thank Henry every day for putting the world out of his misery,” Sam said, and he heard Henry shuffle near the door. “Do you have a guess? Boy or girl?” 

“I think it’s a girl, your Majesty. My…my mother always said that girls move around more, and she kicks a lot.” 

“Is that so?” Sam hadn’t felt any kicking, but the baby wasn’t living in his body every minute of the day, so he supposed he could trust Daisy in this, even if she was stupid. Maybe it was just sleeping right now. 

Just as he thought that, there was movement under his hand, and Sam snapped it back with an intake of breath, forcing down the crawl of power that surged instinctively forward. 

Daisy giggled. “There she is.”

Sam wondered if Daisy realized that laughing at him was gambling with her life. Behind him, Henry shuffled again. 

Composing himself, Sam stood, clasping his hands behind his back and stepping back from Daisy. “The servants are caring for you properly, yes?”

“Yes, your Majesty. I have everything a mother needs for a healthy baby.”

Sam hadn’t yet decided if Daisy was going to get to be the baby’s mother. Part of him thought it was a bad idea. “Good. And you’re due to give birth around the beginning of winter, is that right?”

“Yes, your Majesty. I…” 

Sam stopped listening as suddenly the air around him shook, and the stone in his pocket let out a long wail in accord with the shaking. The Forces answered the cry, trembling for just a moment. 

“Your Majesty?”

“Shut up,” Sam said to her in a whisper, turning to the north, where he could feel the tremor emanating from. 

“Sam, what’s wrong?”

“I said, shut _up_.” The furniture in the room shook as Sam took a step in that direction, bumped into a low table and nearly tripped with a curse. After a second Henry’s hands were on his arm and Sam shook him off roughly, sticking his hand in his pocket and fingering the stone for a minute. 

The tremor stopped, and the Forces and the stone returned to normal right away, as if nothing had happened. Sam’s power was reacting, though, crawling up and down his flesh, breaking through his skin in a desire to meet whatever challenge had just been issued. 

“What the hell was that?” he asked nobody in particular. It had the flavour of power, but Sam was the most powerful sorcerer in the world and he didn’t think that he could shake the Forces like that. And the stone had been…reacting to something. 

As much as Sam wanted to know what it was, he was also fairly certain he didn’t want to meet it. 

And that, recognizing that…fear, pissed him off.

“Sam.”

“It’s nothing,” Sam said, cutting Henry off from saying anything else. “Just some magic in the north. Someone throwing a temper tantrum or something.” 

“That you felt all the way from here?”

“I guess so.” Sam turned and made for the door, expecting Henry to open it for him. To Daisy, he said, “I’ll come visit you again. I look forward to meeting the baby, Daisy.”

“Me too, your Majesty.” 

Sam nodded, and strode out of the room, then down the hall as quickly as he could without tripping. 

“What’s going on, Sam?” Henry demanded, following after him. 

“If I wanted to tell you, I would have already,” Sam snapped. 

“Is that your way of saying you don’t know?”

Sam stopped walking, rounded on Henry. “I don’t have patience for that tone today, Henry.”

Henry was quiet for a minute, until Sam turned away and took another step. “You’re scared.”

“Of course I’m not scared. What do I have to be scared of?”

“It’s written all over your face,” Henry said, following after Sam. “All of your emotions are. Why are you scared?”

“I’m not.” 

“Sam,” Henry said, tone plying. “It’s me you’re talking to. Nobody else is here. You don’t need to pretend.” 

Sam lashed out, slammed Henry into the nearest wall, eliciting a cry of pain. Shaking, he stepped forward, until he was right in front of Henry, who he knew couldn’t move. “I’m not scared.”

“You’re trembling,” Henry gasped out. 

“I’m angry.”

“You get angry when you’re scared,” Henry told him. “You think I don’t know you? After all this time, you think I don’t know you, Sam? I’m not asking to laugh at you, Sam, I’m asking because you’re the scariest person in the world and you’re _scared_ and that scares me too.”

Sam stood there for a minute, keeping Henry pinned, listening in his head to Henry’s words. He couldn’t find a trap in them, no joke or jibe or opportunity for Henry to gain leverage over him. Was he being genuine? _You think I don’t know you, Sam?_

Sam let Henry go, turned away while he slumped to the floor. “You’re a coward.”

“I know.” 

“Someone really powerful was using their magic just now,” Sam said, waiting for Henry to stand.

“More powerful than you?”

“Maybe. Don’t bother getting ideas. It was far to the north.” 

“At least you know where it was. Whoever did it doesn’t know where you are.” 

“You’re right.” Sam did take comfort from that, which annoyed him. He didn’t need Henry to comfort him. “It just…surprised me, is all.” 

“You get angry when you’re surprised, too.” 

“Am I that easy to read, Henry?” He shouldn’t have asked that. It would make Henry think he cared, but not in the way Sam wanted Henry to think that. He needed to go sit down, and collect his thoughts for a minute. 

“To me you are, Sam.” 

Sam tensed for a second, made himself relax. “Go to the kitchen and tell them I want…something. I’m hungry.”

“What do you want?”

“I don’t know, decide something. You know what I like.” He just needed Henry to go away for a few minutes, that was all. 

“Okay,” Henry sounded like he didn’t believe Sam. “I’ll meet you in the room.”

“Fine.” Sam stood there while Henry moved away, and didn’t move until he was alone in the hallway. 

He stood there for a few minutes, taking deep breaths and trying to calm down, and trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.


	16. Kings Don’t Have As Much Freedom As It Seems

Sam woke up really suddenly to the feeling that it was still night. 

That wasn’t unusual, he’d never been the heaviest sleeper and often woke up during the night for a few minutes at a time or longer. But this time something was different.

This time he’d woken up for a reason. Someone was in the room. 

Henry was snoring softly beside him, having rolled away from Sam a bit in his sleep like he usually did. He was where Sam had left him, but Sam was absolutely certain he was being watched. 

He lay there, not moving, trying to listen to the room, but there was no sound, at least not any that wasn’t usually there at night. He could hear the wind outside, but nothing else. But his skin was crawling, and it was getting worse as his power reacted to what he was feeling. 

Sam wasn’t going to sit here and wait for some cowardly little assassin to come at him with a knife. He grabbed hold of his power, wrestled it into submission, prepared to wash the room with it to flush out his silent watcher. 

_Unwise, sorcerer._

Sam froze. That had come clear as a stone dropping, from everywhere in the room at once. Silent, but easily audible.

“What are you?” Sam asked, taking a breath to steady himself and sitting up. He wasn’t going to cower. He didn’t let go of his power. It wasn’t human, whatever had just spoken. 

_A friend._

“I don’t have friends who sneak into my bedroom at night,” Sam said, cautious.

_An ally, then. An asset. I was a friend to your father._

Sam felt his face contort into a glare. Henry had told him he wore his emotions on his face, which had made him aware of it. “Then I want nothing to do with you. He’s dead.” 

_So I have learned. Imagine my surprise after being gone for such a short time to return and find him dead. And you, little sorcerer, bonded to the stone._

“Don’t talk to me like that,” Sam said, hand clenching in the blankets. “I’m the Sorcerer King.”

_That you are, little thing._ And suddenly the room was filled, filled with power and taint, and Sam lost his grip on the Forces, on his magic. And Sam was powerless in the face of this…this thing that had manifested around him. 

Then the power subsided, leaving behind the sensation of thousands of ants burrowing into Sam’s skin. Sam shivered, rubbed his bare arms to warm them up. _But you have no sovereignty over me._

“You think I care that you’re a demon?” he demanded. It was the only thing that made sense. Sam had suspected his father must have had some sort of contract with a demon. It would have been strange if he hadn’t with how powerful he’d been. 

The voice seemed to sneer. _Demons are merely the result of an inept child’s temper tantrum. I am something far greater._

Sam wasn’t playing this game. He recognized it, knew that an interrogator forcing his prisoner to ask questions that would betray ignorance was a tactic used by people with power. He’d done it to Henry for months, and Solomon had done it to Sam for years. He wasn’t playing that game. “Tell me what you want,” he ordered. 

_Your father shared nothing with you, did he?_ the voice mocked. _He was not the most trusting of men, to keep such things even from his own son._

“Solomon and I weren’t the closest of relatives,” Sam spat, shifting in the bed. He hated that he was sitting here in his bed, naked and half under the blankets as if hiding from this…thing in his room. 

_Sons should be more respectful of their fathers._

“And fathers should be fathers to their sons. Are you going to tell me what you want or did you just come here to make fun of me?” Through all this, Henry slept. Sam had a feeling his visitor was helping him along in that. Henry wasn’t a heavy sleeper either. 

_I came here to find out why Solomon had not put his plan to seize the mages’ stone into action. I see now why._

Sam frowned, tilting his head a little and trying to hear if the voice really was coming from everywhere like it seemed to be. “Why would he have wanted the mages’ stone? He couldn’t use it.” The stone sitting on Sam’s bedside table had four partners, but a sorcerer could only use this one. There was no reason for Solomon to care about the rest of the set. 

_The stones’ usefulness lies not in their ability to amplify your existing power, little sorcerer. Gathering the five will make you into something far greater than what you are._

“I’m the most powerful sorcerer in the world. I’m a king.” 

_The king of what? Nothing of consequence. Do as I say, and you shall be a god._

Sam straightened a little at that. “Solomon said something about that. He was going to be a god. Now he’s centipede food.” He considered the voice for a moment. “And you? What will you be once you have the stones?”

Sam wasn’t stupid. This creature wasn’t here to help _him._

_What I used to be before the world was destroyed by a foolish human._

“A god.” Sam felt his heart slow down. 

There was a very long silence in which the only thing Sam could hear was his own blood racing in his ears, his own breath filling the air. 

_It would be a shame for you to let all your father’s planning go to waste._

“I don’t know anything about my father’s plans.”

_All you need do is give a signal. For the rest, you shall have to learn on your own._

“And if I decided not to cooperate with your…request?” Sam sneered. 

_Then I shall withdraw, leave you to your own devices. But remember that I want the five stones, little thing, and you have one. You must decide if you would rather have me for ally or foe._

The presence left the room suddenly, moving. It wasn’t everywhere, it was just big. Sam felt it leave, felt it move west. Beside him, Henry started making stupid noises and moving restlessly in his sleep. A nightmare. He had them most nights. 

Sam had nightmares sometimes too, and the last few times he’d woken up from them with Henry’s hands on him, trying to calm him down. A sensible enough precaution since Sam’s power didn’t always sleep with him and he’d destroyed a few pieces of furniture in his sleep before. 

Part of Sam wanted to sit there in the dark by himself, possibly for hours, and think about what had just happened. Part of Sam wanted Henry to stay asleep, not be around him when he was like this.

Sam reached out and smacked Henry on the shoulder. “Stop that.” 

Henry jolted awake with a shout, panting. “Sam! What…”

“You were making too much noise. It was annoying.”

Henry was quiet for a moment, calming his breathing. “I didn’t…thank you.”

“It’s fine.” Sam sighed. “Go back to sleep. It’s still night.”

“You sound upset.”

_Damn_. Sam took a breath, tried to sound normal. “I’m just tired of you waking me up.” 

There was a long and heavy quiet. “What were you dreaming about?”

Sam didn’t answer for a minute or two, wondering why Henry cared. “Solomon.” He wasn’t sure why he didn’t want Henry to know about the creature, the god, that had just been in the bedroom. He wasn’t sure why he’d rather have Henry think he was having another stupid nightmare. But he did. 

“Me too.”

“Go back to sleep.”

“You too.”

“Yeah.” Sam sat there for a moment later, Henry laying quietly beside him. Obviously waiting for him to lay back down. So Sam did, because he couldn’t be bothered hitting Henry again. 

He curled up next to Henry, trying to find sleep again. 

“You’re freezing,” Henry mumbled, tired. Sam marvelled that he could sleep again that easily, and with Sam right here. He really had managed to train Henry well. 

Sam didn’t answer Henry. He was a king. The Sorcerer King. Sam was the one who decided what to do and what not to do. He wasn’t subject to the whims of others, the whole reason why he’d killed Solomon was so that he wouldn’t ever have do obey orders again. This god—so called, Sam wasn’t as convinced now as he had been a minute ago—coming into his room and telling him what to do…put that in question. And that made Sam angry. _You get angry when you’re scared, too._

Sam pushed that aside. It was just Henry being stupid. 

_You must decide if you would rather have me for ally or foe_ , the voice had said. It had made the choice Sam’s, but the choice didn’t exist. He’d done that to Henry enough times too to know, Solomon had done it to him enough times for Sam to know it when it was happening again.

Laying cold against Henry in the night, Sam tried to warm himself up as he thought hard on that choice. And he made it, clenching his fist.

_I’d rather have you dead._


	17. Trust Is One of the World’s Deadliest Weapons

There were wards on the door to Solomon’s private study, active even now after his death. They were powerful, violent, prepared to lash out at anyone who tried to enter the room. 

None of the servants in the castle would ever have tried to enter this room, and a basic ward would have stopped them. A locked door would have stopped them. These weren’t up so that servants couldn’t intrude on Solomon’s privacy—there was only one person in the castle who’d have been able to get through a basic ward or locked door. Solomon had been trying to keep Sam out. 

Sam cut through the wards with a flexing of his power that left the air in the hallway smelling of smoke. He pulled the door open, stepped into the room, paused. 

Henry followed Sam in. “How come you’ve never come in here before?” he asked. 

“Because I don’t care about my father’s things. The only reason I didn’t have someone destroy them was because I couldn’t be bothered to open the wards before now,” Sam told him, standing there in the entrance. He didn’t know where any of the furniture was in this room. 

Henry brushed past Sam, came into the study. He moved forward a bit, stopped. There was a thud, as if he’d walked into something. Sam took a step forward. “Then why now?”

“Because I have free time today,” Sam told him, joining Henry and slowly lowering his hand until it landed on what he assumed was Solomon’s desk. 

“Okay,” Henry said quietly, voice shifting as if he’d turned his head. “It’s kind of like my father’s study back home,” he said. “Books and maps and stuff. He even had a display case like that in the corner too, with random knickknacks that he liked.” Henry paused. “I don’t think he’d have needed a big table like that one, though. But I guess he need an extra surface to do magic at and stuff.”

Sam didn’t care about Henry’s father—the man was charcoal—but from the casual tone of voice Henry was taking as he described everything, he wasn’t much worried about the man either. Sam listened to him, trying to understand why he was doing it. There was nobody but the two of them in here. “Why?” he interrupted. 

“Why what?”

“Why wouldn’t you use it against me, Henry?” Sam asked. 

Henry was quiet for a long minute. Sam heard him move, felt Henry come into his air. “Because you’re used to people using it against you so you’d know. Because you’d hate it if you thought I was pitying you.” 

That was true. “It’s the only thing you have that puts you in a position of power over me. It’s stupid not to take advantage of it.” 

“I’m pretty stupid,” Henry’s hand was on Sam’s face suddenly, brushing lightly over his eyes. Sam recoiled. “There are a lot of things wrong with you, Sam. You’re a broken, fucked-up excuse for a human in so many ways I can’t even count them all. But this isn’t one of them.” 

Sam made an agitated noise and slapped Henry’s hand away from him. “I don’t need your approval, Henry.” He turned away, keeping a hand on the desk as he walked along it, stopping when he came to the edge. He could feel magic humming in one corner of the room as he took a minute to think. “The display case. Tell me what’s in it.”

“Um…” Henry moved closer, around Sam. “A sword with a fancy grip. Two little dragon figurines, a necklace, a wooden box, a book with a metal latch on it. A bowl, looks like it’s got bloodstains. A saint’s icon.” He paused for a minute, and Sam waited for him to finish. “That’s all.”

Some or all of them were enchanted, Sam could feel it from here. Maybe this was where dad had kept his weapons. Or his toys. “Open the case.” 

“There’s…it’s locked shut.”

Sam closed his eyes for a second, sighed. “Do you think I give a fuck about the sanctity of a display case? Break it open. I’m sure you can manage to punch through a pane of glass.” 

Henry hesitated for just a second. “Right.” 

There was a long silence, then a grunt and the sound of glass breaking, and Henry cried out in pain. 

Sam smiled. He liked that sound. “Hand me the things that are in there one at a time. I want to know what they are.” 

“Okay.” Henry was breathing hard, trying to get through the pain he was feeling. Sam let him do it, holding out his hand. Something long and heavy was put in there, leather. “The sword.” 

It didn’t seem magical to touch, but when Sam pulled it a little from its scabbard, he felt power in it. Nothing major, just a strength enchantment. A strong one. “You could probably knock down a wall with this,” he said, putting it back in its scabbard and setting it on the desk. “Maybe I’ll give it to you.”

“I have a sword,” Henry grated. “Here. The icon.”

Sam took it. “Fuck!” It burned his hand. He dropped it immediately. Shaking out his hand, Sam suppressed the surge his power gave in response to the injury. “What saint is it?” He wasn’t sure why that mattered. 

“I don’t know. Are you okay?”

“Just hand me the next thing.” Sam didn’t need Henry _worrying_ about him. 

A rattling sound. “The…the necklace.”

Henry sounded distant suddenly and when the necklace touched Sam’s hand, Sam grabbed it, found himself having to pull it from Henry’s hand. 

And was overwhelmed immediately by the sound of waves crashing in his ears, the scent of salt, the feel of spray against his face. The ocean, he was near the ocean. But, no, Sam wasn’t near the ocean. The Fury Plateau wasn’t near enough the ocean for Sam to be there, and he’d never been closer to the coast than this.

But suddenly in this moment Sam wanted to go there, wanted to go to the ocean, where he belonged. He should just…he should just go there. Sam could go there if he wanted, he was the Sorcerer King. He could go anywhere he wanted, and he belonged in the water, not here in this castle, this dry, high up castle that was so far from…

“Sam?”

Sam gasped. His hand was clenched so hard around the necklace that his fingernails were digging into his palm. He opened a teleportation spell with a thought and dropped the necklace into it, snapping it shut immediately. 

All thought of the ocean fled his mind. 

“What was that?”

“Compulsion on the necklace. You wanted to go to the ocean when you were holding it, right?”

“Yeah, it was weird.” 

“I teleported it as far west as I could. It probably ended up in the ocean. It can fucking stay there.” Sam did _not_ like being compelled. If Henry hadn’t snapped him out of that, he might have teleported himself to the ocean with that thing.

With a long sigh, Sam reached out, grabbed Henry’s arm, ran healing magic through him to close the cuts on his hand. Henry cried out but righted himself a second later, panting. “Thank you.”

“Just give me the rest of the things in there,” Sam muttered, hand tingling. He didn’t want to touch anything else since two out of three had turned out to be dangerous so far, but Solomon had kept all of these for a reason and they were Sam’s now—he wanted to know what they did.

The book rattled when picked up, the bloodied bowl whispered in Sam’s ear in a language he didn’t know, the figurines made his head go all fuzzy and he felt like he was flying for a minute before he dropped them, and the box needed to be ensorcelled in a really specific way to open and proved empty once it had been, though Henry said there’d been a small flash for a second. 

Sam wasn’t very impressed with dad’s collection. He’d been looking for something with which he might give a signal, or something that might help him kill a creature claiming to be a god. Surely Solomon hadn’t allied himself with that thing with no way out. 

There was nothing on the table but notes about spells and magic circles, Henry informed him. Some of those Sam intuited could be used to send messages, but he didn’t know to whom. Once Sam was better situated in all this, maybe he’d use them to call whoever they called back to the castle here. Some of them probably were means of contacting Saul and Sarah, and Sam wanted them here, not wherever Solomon had sent them. 

“There’s a journal here,” Henry said, looking through Solomon’s desk while Sam waited. 

Sam took a breath, hesitating. He hated having people read to him more than almost anything. There was no faster way to make him feel like a child than to have someone sit there and dictate the words in a book to him and what was more, Sam had no way at all of knowing if what they were reading him was what was actually written in the book. 

“Sam?”

“What?” Sam snapped.

“Should I read it for you?”

Sam shook his head. “No. I don’t care. Just…look through it and see if there’s any mention of…mages.” He didn’t want Henry knowing what he was looking for. 

But that wasn’t going to work, Sam realized. He couldn’t not tell Henry and at the same time expect him to know what to look for. He...

If Sam wanted to know what he needed to know, he was going to need to trust Henry. 

“There’s one here.”

Sam took a breath, let it out. “Tell me what it says.”

Henry started reading the entry and Sam paid careful attention to his voice for any hint of falsehood. The whole time he listened, he couldn’t hear a single one.


	18. If You’re after Justice, It’s Best to Consider Whose Justice You’re after

“How many more?”

“Just two.”

Sam sighed. Part of being the king was hearing the concerns of his people. For some stupid reason, they thought he cared. So today he’d been sitting court, listening to the whinging of what had seemed like everyone in the Fury Plateau. He thought he’d been handling it all pretty well, if he did say so himself. 

He’d let Henry pronounce judgement on most of the cases that weren’t important or interesting enough to merit Sam’s attention. And if Henry was too lenient—he hadn’t ordered a single person tortured or executed—that was okay. Let them all be grateful that Sam was in a good enough mood not to contradict him. 

“Send the next one in, then,” Sam said with a gesture. “And I want a bath prepared for when we’re done.”

“Okay,” was all Henry said, and that was enough. He was a surprisingly good attendant. He got done all the things Sam wanted him to do. It was kind of annoying at times; it didn’t give Sam much opportunity to punish him. But Henry being obedient was kind of fun in itself. For now. 

Footsteps sounded, three sets. A guard and two others. “Your Majesty,” the guard said formally. “Two farmers, one accused of stealing the other’s cow.”

Sam sighed. Peasants were so boring. Henry started to talk, but Sam sat up straight. “Which of you stole the cow?”

Both men started to talk at once, and Sam scowled. “The first one of you who lies is going to get a hot poker to your tongue. And I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that I am not someone who can be lied to.”

That shut them both up. Henry sighed a little beside him, which he always did when Sam decided to arbitrate. But never audibly, so it was only Sam who could hear it. He was getting a little cheeky, was Henry. 

Finally, one man worked up the courage to talk. “It was him, your Majesty! He stole it, right out of my field, and put it in his barn, said it was his!”

Sam was silent for a minute. “I don’t hear you denying it,” he said.

“He’s always letting it graze in my field. It’s practically my cow, your Majesty, and he’s already got five others.”

Sam sighed. So stupid. “How much is a cow worth?”

“Maybe about five silvers, up to ten if it’s a good breeding cow,” Henry supplied. 

Sam thought about it for a second. “Pay him for the cow. He’s been negligent in caring for it; you can keep it.”

“Thank you, your Majesty.”

“Cut off his hand,” Sam told the guard. “We don’t want to encourage theft in my kingdom, after all.”

It was, Sam thought, a measured response. One that Henry wouldn’t complain about later like he often liked to when Sam punished people. “Wait, your Majesty!” The sound of drawing steel filled the air. “I’ll give it back, I’ll give it back, please!”

“You broke the law. You think you can fix it just by reversing what you did?” Sam asked. 

“Please, I won’t do it again, have mercy, your Majesty! I have three children! I barely feed my family as it is!”

“You shouldn’t have had three children, then. Maybe you’d be happier with fewer.” Sam sighed. “I’m willing to be lenient, this time—if your neighbour drops his charges against you and you return what you stole and pay him the cost of the cow. How does he feel about that proposition?”

If it were Sam, he’d still insist that the man’s hand be removed, to prevent future theft. But Sam was curious about how someone else would react in this situation—Henry, he knew, would be forgiving, and he was curious which route the farmer would take. 

“I…I’ll drop the charges, your Majesty. Please don’t cut his hand off.”

Sam sighed again. “Fine. Get out of here, both of you. And settle your problems yourselves next time, because I promise I’m only going to be generous once.”

There was some bowing and scraping, and finally they were gone. “Bring in the next one,” Sam called, leaning back on the throne again. “People are so stupid. Over a cow? Do they not have more important things to worry about?”

“Cows are the most important thing in their worlds, Sam.”

“I wonder what it’s like to be so small,” Sam mused, as the guard brought in two more sets of footfalls. 

“Your Majesty,” the guard called. “Two peasants, accusing members of your guard of the rape of their daughter.”

“How terrible,” Sam said to them, as Henry went a bit still beside him. His backside was really sore from sitting on the stupid throne so long. “Tell me what happened.”

“Your Majesty, your…guards came to our village recruiting. They banged on our door when they heard we had a son, and they…” the man broke off for a moment, voice trembling.

“I can’t do anything if you don’t tell me what happened,” Sam said, impatient. He wanted that bath. 

“They…our daughter was there, and the three of them, your Majesty, the violated her, right there. They laughed while they did it! She’s only fourteen, and now she’s pregnant with one of those pigs’ bastards!”

“I understand,” Sam said with a sigh. “And you have a son as well.”

“Yes, he’s twelve and he watched while they did that to his sister. Can you imagine what that does to a young boy?”

“I can imagine,” Sam told the man dryly. The boy had probably been jealous. “I’m surprised you’re not happy. Normally people are excited to be grandparents, aren’t they?”

“Your Majesty!” The wife’s voice was a near shriek that hurt Sam’s ears. “Nobody wants children under these circumstances.”

“I understand there are tinctures women can drink to ensure that pregnancies fail, in that case.”

“That’s hardly the point!”

“Yes, of course.” Apparently there was a point. Sam had missed that. “Is it possible to identify the guards responsible?” he asked Henry. 

Before Henry could answer, the wife did. “We know their faces, and besides—that man right there was one of them!”

She must have been indicating one of the guards. Sam didn’t know which one, but there were a few scattered around the room. “Come forward,” he called, and heard footfalls from his left. “Your name?”

“Dana, your Majesty.” He sounded quite young himself.

“There are too many screaming babies in the world, Dana. Rape the boy next time, it’s basically the same.”

“Understood, sir.” There was a clanking of metal. Dana sounded smug. Henry’s silence was audible.

“You and your two friends will return to that village and pay the girl—Henry, what did you say a breeding cow was worth? Ten silvers each to her to pay for the expenses of having a child.” 

“Is that supposed to be a joke?” the peasant man demanded in a shrill shout. “We demand he be put to death!”

Sam tilted his head. “That isn’t going to reverse your daughter’s rape, and I care more about having living guards than your need for revenge. I’m done with you, get out.” If they’d wanted the guards killed, they should have arranged for it to happen themselves. 

“Listen here, you cross-eyed son of a bitch, you don’t get to…”

Sam straightened a little on the throne, opening his mouth as a cold rage swept through him, the Forces shuddering over the surface of his skin as he reached out. 

“Guard,” Henry called, before Sam could do anything. “Take him to the dungeon. You’re under arrest—that is your king you’re addressing.”

There was a lot of shouting, from the man, cursing Sam, from the woman, begging them not to, but he was taken from the throne room, hollering about justice all the way. “Please, please don’t!” his wife cried. “He didn’t mean it, he didn’t!”

“Shut up,” Henry told her, voice hard. “You came here for the king’s justice and you got it. If you weren’t willing to accept what you heard, then you shouldn’t have come.” 

“You’re monsters, both of you!”

Sam’s hand was clenched into a fist on the arm of the throne, but he smiled at that. “Says the woman who did nothing to stop her daughter being raped. I’m willing to bet you didn’t offer yourself in her place, did you? I’m sure your husband didn’t either.”

“I…we…”

“Dana, you and your two friends will escort this woman back to her village and pay the girl her due.” He smiled. “And since the family is short one parent to provide, they’re going to need some extra income. You can inform the son that he’s been hired as one of my castle servants, I’m sure his family will appreciate the money, and having one less mouth to feed.” 

More clanking of metal. “Yes, your Majesty!” Footsteps, and the crying woman was dragged from the room. The throne room doors closed behind her. Sam made an annoyed noise.

“That was cruel,” Henry told him.

“I want that man tortured to death.” Sam wanted to torture him to death personally.

“If you keep him alive and let him go in a few weeks, he can tell other people what happened and warn them not to do the same thing.”

“Did you not _hear_ me, Henry?” Sam hissed, finding his breathing coming heavier than usual. He didn’t know why he was so angry about the vapid insult of a mindless peasant.

“You can’t torture everyone who insults you, Sam.” Henry was keeping his voice down, enough that the guards probably couldn’t hear. 

“I think you underestimate how good I am at torturing people.”

“I’m not, but it’s a question of what kind of kingdom you want to be ruling. Kings do more than torment their subjects.”

King could do whatever they wanted, which Sam thought Henry should probably know, but before he could answer, the doors to the throne room opened again and he turned his head. “I thought you said we were done.”

“Apologies, your Majesty,” the guard said. “Sergeant Cole has returned.”

Oh. Oh, that was fun. One of his father’s guardsmen, he’d been away putting down a rebellion in the eastern part of the Plateau for a while. “Send him in.”

“Who’s Cole?”

It was all Sam could do not to smile. “He used to be Herbert’s second in command. Solomon liked to send him out to deal with anyone not paying proper deference to him. Cole is very creative about fixing such things.”

There was a clomping of boots and Sam could _feel_ Henry go stiff. “Sergeant Cole, I trust you’ve put down that silly rebellion?”

“Yes, your Majesty.” Cole had a teasing voice that Sam tolerated only because he used it on everyone. He heard a knee hit the ground. “Since I wasn’t here to say it when it happened, congratulations on your ascension to the throne.” 

“Thank you. I assume I can count on your continued service?”

“Of course, your Majesty. I understand you promoted Lowell to captain of the guard.”

“I did,” Sam said. Lowell wasn’t present at the moment. “If you want the job, you’re welcome to convince me you’re better for it.”

Cole made a noise of derision. “Well, I don’t need to stick it in little kids to feel like a man, for one. But I’m sure you’d prefer something more…convincing. I can make that happen.”

“Please, do.” Lowell’s preference for young children was something Sam liked about him, actually. He’d given Herbert’s kids to him after he’d killed Solomon, and everyone with children themselves knew to stay in line or else. It was useful. “I’m sure you must want to rest after your journey. Please, feel free to reacquaint yourself with the castle. We’ve redecorated a little.”

“I’ve noticed, yes.” A pause. “I’ll look forward to speaking with you again soon, your Majesty.”

“And you as well, Cole.”

Footfalls, and then they were alone again. Sam smiled, and stood with a stretch. “I want that bath now.”

“Sam.” Henry’s voice was hoarse, rough.

“Yes?”

“He…that man, he was there.”

“I know.” Sam descended from the dais, turning to head for a side door that would take them to his rooms. “He led the party that was sent to deal with the Arkhewers when they refused to recognize Solomon’s sovereignty.” Sam paused. “Actually, I don’t know if I ever told you—Solomon ordered your family to be brought in line. That’s all. The decision to burn them was Cole’s.” 

“I’m going to kill him.”

“I’m not giving him to you like I did the others. He’s useful to me.”

“ _Sam._ ”

Sam liked that tone, that dangerous hiss. “Are you about to threaten me, Henry?”

A pause of just a second. “Please. Let me kill him.”

“Hm.” Sam pretended to think about it. “I just said I wasn’t giving him to you. I didn’t say you couldn’t kill him. His life is valuable to me and his death is valuable to you, so I want something in return, that’s all.”

“Anything you want, as long as I can kill him.”

Sam like that dedication. “Now that’s a conviction I didn’t think I’d ever hear from you, Henry. Deal. Don’t tell me you’re going to kill him humanely, please.”

“I…nobody deserves to be tortured.” That was a cracked whisper. Sam didn’t think it would be hard to widen that crack.

He reached out, found Henry’s wrist, used Order. Henry screamed as his arm caught fire, jerked back, fell over. Sam let him burn for a few seconds, before waving a hand and putting the fire out. “I just thought you might like to know what being on fire feels like,” he said when Henry had stopped screaming. Sam crouched, put a hand on Henry, paused. He just let him sit there, panting in pain, feeling what a burn really was for another few seconds before he ran his healing spell through Henry with a jolt. 

Sam stood, left Henry sitting there on the floor, and turned. “And that was just your arm, imagine what it must be like over your whole body, until you die. But if you really think he deserves a painless death, that’s fine with me.”

He left Henry there, went to the door, which a guard opened for him. “And I want that man in the dungeon tortured. But keep him alive.” 

Sam really wanted that bath.


	19. It’s Hard to Pick up a Scheme that Someone Else Has already Started

“I could have done this without you,” Henry said, as he and Sam waited on top of the tower. “You didn’t need to come.”

“I know.” Sam let the sulphurous wind blow over him. “I thought I’d keep you company.”

“You thought you’d keep me from doing anything stupid,” Henry corrected. 

“I wonder what stupid thing you think you’d have done if I weren’t here.” That was, in fact, part of the reason Sam had come. 

“Guess we’ll never find out.” 

“I guess not.” Sam breathed in the air. 

“You know…” Henry trailed off. 

Sam waited for him to finish, and when he didn’t, Sam sighed. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Henry.”

“Just…” Now Henry sighed. “You’re a better king than I thought you’d be.”

That wasn’t what Sam had expected. “Oh? You thought I’d be a bad king?”

“I did,” Henry admitted, voice a little distant, as if he’d turned away. “I just figured you only wanted to be king so you could hurt the most people all the time. That you’d turn everything into your own personal bloodbath or something.”

“I’m sorry to have disappointed you,” Sam said dryly. “I can make a throne out of the skulls of infants if you like, though they’re easily breakable and not the best building material.” 

“I’m trying to compliment you.” Henry sounded testy. “Wait. Was that a joke? An actual, funny joke, from you?”

Sam felt himself get oddly warm at that. “No. And you’re trying to tell me I’m not as much of a psychopath as you thought I was, which isn’t as much of a compliment as you think.” Sam smiled, though. “Still, I appreciate the effort. I didn’t really want to be king as much as I wanted to kill Solomon, but if I’m going to be king, I’d better do it well. If I torture and maim all my subjects in the first week of my reign, who am I going to torture and maim next week?”

“Ha, ha.” Henry sighed. 

That hadn’t been a joke. “You’ve been surprisingly helpful,” he told Henry. “I expected you to complain at every turn that I was being too mean to all the poor peasants, but you’ve actually done well in dealing with them when I don’t want to.” Which was most of the time.

“I try to strike a balance,” Henry muttered.

“Between?”

“Things awful enough that you’ll approve without being as evil as possible.”

Sam heard that, then thought about it, let it sink in. And he laughed. “So you’re placating me by only letting the guard torture some people? Good plan. It’s working.”

“It’s a first step,” Henry said, sounding cautious. “The overall plan is to wean you off torture altogether.”

“Now you’re making funny jokes. But good luck with that. Hurting people is fun.”

“If you’re a psychopath.”

“The proper term is sadist,” Sam corrected. “And you can admit it, it’s just you and me up here. I promise not to tell anyone that you’ve developed a liking for bloodshed.”

“Shut up,” Henry’s voice went a little quieter at that.

“That’s no way to address a king.”

The spell circle crackled with power, and Sam directed his attention over there just as it snapped, and Jocelyn stepped out of it. “Oh my, you’ve found a friend.”

“I had him last time too, you just didn’t meet him,” Sam told her. 

“I see. I’m Jocelyn,” she said, presumably to Henry. “Nice to meet you, young man.”

“You too, ma’am.”

“Polite.” Jocelyn said that in a way that made it sound like she was mocking. Which she probably was. “And cute, too, though I suppose you’re not overly worried about that, are you, Sam?”

“Cute things are for children,” Sam said, leading Jocelyn and Henry to the stairs, which he started down without hesitation. He didn’t like Jocelyn making comments about Henry. Maybe he should have left Henry downstairs. 

“You know, I know your father put the teleportation circle up here as a power play to make me walk down the treacherous stairs all the time,” Jocelyn said, not sounding bothered, “but I rather like that he did. It’s a good view and Mount Saint Bernadette is quite striking from here.”

“You could always visit it if you want,” Sam offered. “Though it’s empty these days. Solomon killed everyone in the monastery when I was little.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t like nuns.” 

Actually, Sam was pretty sure dad hadn’t liked women much. But that probably wasn’t why he’d emptied the monastery. 

Jocelyn made a little noise that might have been a laugh. “I have to admit,” she said when they were a little farther down the steps. “I was waiting for your father to call me. I assumed he’d want my opinion on that little explosion a few weeks ago. You must have felt it too.”

Sam paused, forcing the other two to pause as well. The wind buffeted them, but he stood there, deciding what to say. “You know who was responsible for that?” She had to be talking about whatever had shaken the Forces that day. And if she had felt it too, then it had been a bigger deal than even Sam had realized. 

“Not categorically, though I have a suspicion.”

“Who was it?”

Sam could tell from the tone of her silence that Jocelyn was smiling. “Worried, are you?”

“Curious,” Sam told her. 

“I suspect it was James.”

“Your son.”

“That’s the one. It was definitely witchcraft that was responsible, and as far as I know there are only three witches alive who can shake the cosmos like that. James is the only one who’s stupid and emotionally unstable enough to actually do it, though. It was probably an accident.”

Sam did not like the idea of ‘shaking the cosmos,’ though he was worried it wasn’t inaccurate. “If he’s that powerful, you should have done a better job of either keeping him on your side or killing him.”

“You don’t say,” Jocelyn said, tone flat. 

Sam didn’t say anything else and led her and Henry the rest of the way down the stairs, through both sets of doors and into the castle proper. “Have you given any thought to my suggestion from last time we spoke?” Jocelyn asked as Sam took her down the hallway. 

It was obvious that she was being vague in case Henry were some kind of spy. “Your suggestion that I marry your daughter and help you overthrow my father?” Sam asked. “No.”

“Really?” Jocelyn sounded unsurprised. “I didn’t think you’d be the type to so simply dismiss options when you’ve so few of them.”

“I’m not,” Sam told her, turning right and leading them down a set of winding steps. “But I prefer boys.” 

“I don’t think I’ve seen this part of the castle before.” Sam could hear Jocelyn looking at Henry. 

“I’m told that seeing new things is fun,” Sam said, as Henry moved past him to open the door at the bottom of the steps. He led Jocelyn into the short hallway and through another door, which he undid a ward on, and into the room with the centipede pit, which was quiet at the moment. 

“What’s going on?” Jocelyn asked, her footsteps echoing a little. Sam heard her move to the rail around the pit, then shift. “I have a hard time believing your father asked you to take me down here.”

“He didn’t.”

“You’re willing to risk his wrath? That’s new.”

“Is it?” Sam asked. “You don’t know me as well as you think.”

Jocelyn was silent for a minute. “Sam, where is your father?”

Ah, the tone of her voice told Sam that she’d finally figured it out. He gestured towards the pit. “Oh.”

“He’s been digested by now, so don’t bother looking,” Sam said, nonchalant. 

“I see.” Jocelyn was silent for a moment, then let out an audible breath. “You went to quite a bit of trouble set up this reveal. You’ve got your father’s flair for the dramatic. May I presume that now is the part where you tell me that I’ll meet the same fate if I don’t do as you say?”

Sam had hoped that Jocelyn would simply assume that without either of them having to voice the threat. It was less tacky that way. “You may presume whatever you want.” 

“Oh, look at you being cool.” Jocelyn’s tone was mocking again. “It goes without saying that I’ll be working with you in your father’s place. I was never that attached to him anyway.” 

“Is that the ease with which you’ll leap to my successor’s side as well?” Sam asked.

“Of course. Do you think I’m stupid?”

Sam smiled. “No, I don’t. In that case, we can start with you telling me what you and Solomon were up to.” 

“Generally or in specific?”

“Both,” Sam said. “I did tell you he wasn’t fond of sharing information. Especially with me.” Sam hated having to ask. But he also hated not knowing, and if Jocelyn knew, he had to get it out of her. Henry had convinced him that asking was a better first step than torturing her. 

Maybe he _was_ being weaned off torture. Sam was going to have to flay someone later just in case. 

“Fair enough.” Jocelyn paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts. Sam heard her foot tapping. “Well, in short, he and I were conspiring to collect the four other stones related to that one he had—which I presume you now have.”

“I do,” Sam confirmed. It was in his pocket. “What did you want with them?”

“Power. His is tuned to sorcerers, I’d be given the one tuned to witches, my husband or my daughter the one for necromancers and the ones for wizards and mages he’d distribute to mysterious friends of his and don’t ask, because I don’t know who they are.” 

“That’s it?” Sam asked. “Power?” It sounded too small for Solomon, and what was more, it didn’t match what Solomon had told Sam before he’d died. 

“Yes. Power is an end to itself. But with it, we’d carve out what we wanted from the world, bring our enemies under our heel, never be challenged, that sort of thing. A bit trite, maybe, but don’t discount the base impulses of humans.” Jocelyn didn’t sound like she was lying. But that might just mean she was a good liar. 

Sam thought about that for a good minute. “And this was Solomon’s plan? Did he have help coming up with it?”

“I’d be more likely to say we came up with something similar independently before we met. If you’re asking whether he was working on it before he knew me, then yes.”

She didn’t know about the demon who’d visited Sam in the night. Not with the way she was talking about the plan, not with the things that she obviously didn’t know. Solomon hadn’t told her. 

“He planned to kill you,” Sam said, realizing all of that.

“Excuse me? And here I thought he didn’t tell you anything.”

“What you just told me is different from what he said before he died. It’s different from what I found in his notes. He thought that gathering all five of the stones would make him a god. Him, personally. He never mentioned you or anyone else.”

The quiet in the centipede pit stretched three ways. Sam waited, Jocelyn considered, and Henry bit his tongue. He would know Sam was lying, because that wasn’t what was in Solomon’s notes. Sam might have to tell him the truth later. 

But fortunately, Henry kept his mouth shut. “Interesting,” Jocelyn said, contemplative. “He was slightly more insane than I’d realized. I suppose in that case I ought to be glad he never managed to get his hands on any other stones. His agent in Merket had the necromancer and wizard stones, but they were stolen out from under him before he could retrieve them for himself.”

More information Sam hadn’t had. “He had a plan to retrieve the mages’ stone from Three Hills as well. I sent the signal to enact the plan not long ago.”

“But no stone.”

“Not yet.” Sam had no way of knowing whether the plan had worked. He didn’t even know what the plan was. 

“And the witches’ stone is currently bound to James’s soul, so there’s no way to get to it and even if you could get past him—bearing in mind that he can rattle the world at a whim—it’s unusable by anyone else as long as he’s alive.” Jocelyn made an annoyed noise. “Perhaps some new plans are in order. Assuming you don’t plan to pick up your father’s slack and kill me in your deification.”

“Being a god sounds boring.” It sounded like Jocelyn’s son was in the same position with his stone as Sam was. At least that explained how he was so powerful. It also probably meant Sam was just as strong as he was. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

“A lie if I ever heard one, but I’ll accept it for now.”

Sam smiled. “I want to hear all the details of your planning with Solomon, and then we’ll talk about some new plans. Join me for dinner.”

“Lead the way, your Majesty.” 

Sam smiled, led Jocelyn out of the centipede pit. “Looks like you were right,” he said to Henry.

“Yeah.” Henry sighed. From his position, it probably would have been better had Sam just tortured Jocelyn instead of allying with her. But it was too late for that now. 

Well, it was never too late to torture someone, but anyway. 

“I’ll reward you later.”

“You know what I want,” Henry said, impatient.

“Soon.”

Henry made a noise, and Sam just smiled as the two of them followed him to dinner.


	20. Desire Tends to Blur the Difference between Fiction and Reality

“Tell me, Lord Hans, how much longer do you think before the king and queen notice that you’re missing?” Sam asked, sipping at his wine. He didn’t like how lightheaded wine made him feel, so he only ever drank a small amount of it at a time. But he didn’t want to appear as a child who couldn’t handle drink, so he’d had two cups tonight. 

“No doubt they already have,” Hans rumbled. He’d had more than two cups of wine, Sam was fairly certain. Servants were clearing away the table from their supper. 

“And yet they’ve sent nobody to come rescue you. Why is that?”

Beside Sam, Henry was trying hard not to fidget, and knowing that was making it hard for Sam not to smile. He was playing a game with Henry the last several days, one Henry didn’t know about. Using a slightly dampened version of the same arousal spell he’d used on Henry once before, Sam had been influencing Henry’s libido for four days now, making his body want sex while at the same time not touching Henry once. 

Inevitably it would build to the point where Henry would take it out on someone in the castle, and Sam was curious to know who. 

“They know that I can handle myself,” Hans said, defensive. “They have no cause to be worried.”

“Or perhaps they don’t care,” Sam suggested. “They did send you here, after all. Did you consider the possibility that they were trying to be rid of you?”

Sam could hear Hans stiffen. “Of course not. I’ve given them no reason for that, and my brother would never do such a thing.”

“Hm.” Sam drank the last of his wine. If his brother wouldn’t do such a thing, then Sam wondered why it mattered that Hans had never given them reason to. “Mine would, but I suppose our families are very different.”

“Clearly,” Hans muttered, into his cup. 

“Hm,” Sam said again, pushing back his chair and putting his cup down. “Thank you for the lovely conversation, Lord Hans. I’m afraid I grow tired. I’ll look forward to our next chat.”

“As will I,” Hans lied, as Sam stood up. 

Sam turned away and headed for the door of the dining room, letting Henry precede him to open it. Outside the room, Cole was waiting, and Sam said to him, “Do let Lord Hans keep drinking until he’s finished before you take him back to his room.”

“Sure thing, your Majesty,” Cole said, in that slightly mocking tone. 

Sam kept walking, with Henry behind him now. As he went, Cole asked, “You’re the Arkhewer boy, aren’t you?”

Henry went tense behind Sam. Sam smiled. “Yes.” Henry’s voice was hoarse. “I am.”

“Thought so,” Cole said. “You look like your dad.”

“You…” Henry took in a breath, didn’t say anything else, or at least didn’t say what he’d been planning to say. “You’re not very good at your job. There were only four of us and you let me get away. I’m surprised that Solomon put up with that level of incompetence.” 

“Careful, kid. When his Majesty gets bored with you I can always finish the job.”

“As if you’re anything without a squad of thugs behind you,” Henry shot.

“You want to find out?” Cole asked, cocky.

“You’re both boring the hell out of me,” Sam told them, still walking. “Compare sizes later when I don’t have to listen to it.”

“Understood, your Majesty,” Cole said, armour clanking as he saluted. Henry just snorted, and followed after Sam.

“God,” Sam muttered as they headed for his rooms. “He’s more obnoxious than I realized. Why _did_ Solomon put up with him?”

“Because Solomon was just as much a psychopath as he is.” 

“Aw,” Sam teased. “And here I thought that was a word you only used for me, Henry. I thought it was a term of endearment.”

“Yeah, well.” Henry made an agitated noise. “You’re my favourite psychopath, how’s that?”

“That makes me happy,” Sam admitted, mocking. But it did, in a strange way. “You’re mine too.”

“I’m not…” Henry trailed off, making that noise again. 

They got to Sam’s room and Henry opened the door, and shut it behind them. 

Todd was in there, clattering around, cleaning up. Or whatever the hell it was that he did in here when Sam wasn’t around. “Oh, good evening, your Majesty.”

Sam ignored him, heading for the adjoining room, intending to leave Todd and Henry alone, just out of curiosity. As he went, he sent a pulse of power into Henry, increasing the arousal spell. 

“Todd, come back in the morning,” Henry told him, voice a little deeper than usual. Sam paused, wondering what that was about.

“I…”

“Get out,” Henry ordered, gently. He was too gentle with Todd.

Sam didn’t say anything to contradict Henry, and Todd shuffled out of the room, door clicking shut behind him. Henry came up behind Sam. “What was that all about?” he asked. It would have been funny if he could have gotten Henry to rape Todd.

Henry put a hand on Sam’s wrist, pushed him into the wall. “What the fuck?”

Sam could hear Henry swallow, just holding Sam there against the wall. Sam’s power was crawling up his body, demanding to be unleashed against Henry for this, but Sam didn’t do anything yet. Their bodies were pressed together and Sam could feel Henry’s hardness through his pants. “What’s the matter with you? Sam asked. 

Henry answered by leaning down and kissing Sam on the mouth, just once. Then he pulled back as if surprised that he’d done it, breathing on Sam’s face. Sam stood still, not sure how to react. 

He hadn’t considered the possibility that Henry would take his sexual frustration out on him.

“That was unexpected,” Sam said, quiet. “Something you want to tell me?”

Henry reached up, brushed a finger along Sam’s jaw. “You know, you’re…” 

“What?” 

“You’re pretty cute,” Henry whispered, and he kissed Sam again. “Actually. I was surprised the first time I saw you.”

Sam felt hot all over at that. “Expected horns, did you?” he managed.

“I don’t know.” Henry’s voice was clouded by lust, just like his thoughts. He started kissing Sam again, more intently this time, tongue probing into Sam’s mouth as he did. He let go of Sam’s wrist, hands wandering down, lifting Sam’s shirt. 

Sam let Henry take it off, wrapped his arms around Henry now. He tried to get Henry’s shirt off but Henry started kissing him again, harder now, pressing Sam against the wall, grinding their hips together. Sam kissed back, doing what Henry was doing, liking this more than he knew he should be.

Henry reached down as they kissed, trying to open the front of Sam’s pants with one hand and not really succeeding. “Stop being so gentle,” Sam whispered between kisses. “They’re just clothes.”

Henry grunted and reached his other hand down, ripping the front of Sam’s pants open and then doing the same to his smallclothes, pulling Sam’s erection free and gripping it in one hand, rutting clothed against Sam as he resumed kissing him.

With a louder grunt, Henry stiffened against Sam a moment later and filled his pants with cum, jerking Sam off furiously and keeping him pressed against the wall. A minute of that, of Henry kissing him, moving off his mouth and kissing Sam’s chin, his neck, his collar, and Sam came too, squirting into Henry’s hand and up in between them.

Sam slumped a little, finished, but Henry kept going, taking his hand off of Sam and still kissing his neck. Sam whimpered a little, and Henry started to push his own pants down. “What’s the matter, Sam?” Henry whispered, as his cock sprang free and he rubbed it against Sam’s. “Aren’t you going to stop me?”

“Why…” Sam swallowed. “Why should I do that?”

“You hate this,” Henry said, thrusting against Sam now. “You hate that I’m in control of you, that I’m doing this to you. You hate not being the one calling the shots.”

Sam did hate those things. But Henry didn’t know that Sam was the one in charge—he’d made Henry feel this way, and he could easily force Henry to stop if he wanted to. He knew that if he told Henry to let Sam have his way, let Sam do whatever he wanted, Henry would. But that was boring. This, this was fun. 

Especially because he already knew how guilty Henry was going to feel afterwards. “Go ahead and do what you want,” he said, smiling. “You’ve had a stressful few weeks. Have some fun.”

“I…” Henry sounded agitated, but he pressed Sam harder against the wall. “I don’t believe you,” he whispered. “You’re going to stop me. You’re not going to let me do this.” 

Sam wondered what Henry was planning to do. He had an idea or two, but he wondered if Henry had had those ideas too. “I’m not making you do anything, Henry,” Sam told him. “You can stop if you want. You could even do this to someone else. I promise not to stop you.”

“No,” Henry said, and his hand was in between Sam’s legs. His fingers were wet; Sam wondered when he’d done that. “I’m not…you’re not…” It sounded almost like a whimper, the way he said that, and he pressed his fingers, both of them, up into Sam. 

Sam grunted, flinching at the intrusion, at the pain that came with it. He couldn’t help but tense, but he bore the pain just fine, and Henry jammed his fingers all the way into Sam, pushing them apart, trying to stretch Sam open. Sam tried to stop resisting him, he knew it would hurt less if he did. He also knew where this was going and if he couldn’t handle some fingers, it was going to get a whole lot worse in a minute. 

“Knew you wouldn’t like it,” Henry muttered, still pressed against Sam. “You’re going to stop me.”

It sounded, Sam realized, like a plea.

“I’m not,” Sam told him. “I’m not going to stop you. Why would I stop you taking what you want, Henry?”

Henry whimpered a little. And he pulled his fingers out, very suddenly grabbing Sam by the thighs and lifting him, Sam’s pants tearing completely as he did. Sam yelped a little as he was pinned to the wall, but then he felt Henry poking at his stretched hole, and he couldn’t help the strangled cry he gave as Henry pressed into him, up and up and into him and it _hurt_ , more than Sam had realized it would. It took everything he had to hold his power back, to bite his tongue and not rip Henry to shreds, to let Henry penetrate him until he was all the way in.

Or not; Henry pulled back a little and pushed, going in even farther, ignoring Sam’s cry and kissing Sam’s neck again as he kept pushing, until finally Sam was sure he couldn’t go in any farther. Sam was perfectly aware of how big Henry was, but he felt so much bigger like this. 

Sam hated that a tear ran down his face, eyes clenched in pain. Henry kissed that tear. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

“No you’re not,” Sam gritted, arms around Henry’s neck. He wrapped his legs around Henry’s waist to keep himself in place. “I’ve told you about apologizing.”

“Yeah.” Henry let out a breath onto Sam’s cheek and he started moving, back and forth, up and down, in and out of Sam. Never totally out, never more than halfway, and getting faster and faster every time he pushed back in. Sam moved with him, bucking his hips a bit, rubbing his cock against Henry’s shirt as he moved, trying to create enough friction to cum. 

It wasn’t enough though, and when Henry gave a particularly hard thrust, slamming Sam against the wall as he started to cum, Sam made a frustrated noise, the pain having ebbed to a gentle throb by now. 

When he was done, Henry lifted Sam off him, nearly dropping him on the floor, though he did help Sam stand. “You okay?”

Sam was pretty sure he wasn’t. “Please, I barely felt that. It’s not a fraction of what I’ve done to you.”

“Yeah,” Henry whispered, panting. 

“You’re not done, are you?” Sam demanded, reaching out finding Henry’s cock, still hard. Sam was shaking a little. “I’m sure that wasn’t all you wanted, was it?”

“I…I’m fine. I just…”

Sam patted Henry on the cheek, stroking his cock a little. Henry was hot in the face. “You’re too nice. To me, of all people? After everything I’ve done to you? You deserve to take what you want from me, don’t you?”

Sam expected resistance. He expected Henry to protest, to devolve into tears, to insist that he wasn’t like that. He wasn’t expecting Henry to snatch his arm, spin Sam around and slam him up against the stone wall again, pressing against him, breathing hard on his neck. And after only a moment’s indecision, he lined himself back up and slammed his cock back into Sam, much, much harder this time. Sam couldn’t hold in his cry as Henry forced his way back in and started moving, far harder than he had before, properly fucking Sam this time.

Henry had Sam’s arm pinned behind his back and he covered Sam’s wrist with his other hand, breath falling hot on Sam as he fucked him into the wall. It hurt, it hurt inside and it hurt in front where Sam was pressed up against the rough stone, scraping his skin as Henry went on, relentless, grunting like an animal. 

The pain faded for the most part and was replaced with a numbness as Sam got used to Henry. He’d done this, he reminded himself as Henry fucked him, he’d made Henry do this. This was all Sam’s doing. He’d asked for this, demanded it. It was part of the game, part of what he was doing to Henry, that was all. The tears on his cheeks would make Henry feel bad later. 

Sam slipped, losing a bit of feeling in his legs, and Henry hauled him up a little, painfully, by his arms, and started going at him harder as if to nail him to the wall. The new angle was slightly different and suddenly, Henry hit something that Sam hadn’t known was there, something that sent a surge of pleasure through Sam, something that made him cry out for a totally different reason. He was hitting that over and over now, and Sam was rutting against the wall, trying to go that extra inch, trying to get himself over.

And he did, clenching his body with a cry as he came against the stone, harder than he thought ever had. “You like that,” Henry whispered, voice rough. “You fucking like this, you little…ng.” Henry came again, heat filling Sam once more as he covered Sam’s body with his. 

But Henry wasn’t done, he kept going, more slowly, fucking Sam through his own orgasm and not stopping. Sam had been keeping him in a state of arousal for several days, after all. 

Held up entirely by Henry’s hands and his cock, Sam didn’t have the energy to protest as Henry just kept fucking him, for Sam didn’t even know how long, until with a groan, he came again, his cum spilling out around him, running down Sam’s legs. 

Only then did he pull out, let go of Sam’s arms, and catch him before he fell.

“That’s better,” Sam muttered, as Henry half-carried him to the bed. 

“You liked it,” Henry said, laying Sam down. It was an accusation.

“So did you,” Sam accused back, smiling as he listened to Henry undress. Some part of him liked that Henry had kept his clothes on throughout that. He reached out with his senses and cancelled the arousal spell, deciding to call the experiment a success. 

“Yeah.” Henry admitted, climbing into bed with Sam. “Sex is good when it’s not rape.”

“Hm.” Sam wondered. It was pretty good when it was rape, too. “You really wanted me to stop you.”

“Yeah.” 

Sam moved, laying his head on Henry’s chest as Henry pulled the blanket over them. He wanted a bath, but he wanted sleep more. He couldn’t feel his legs. “I’m glad I didn’t.”

Henry didn’t answer that.

Sam smiled. “You can kill Cole whenever you want.”

“What? I...”

“I’m feeling generous,” Sam explained. 

“Thank you,” Henry whispered, putting an arm around Sam.

“Is it going to hurt?”

Henry was quiet for a long time about that, and Sam waited patiently, though he was drifting off. “Yes,” Henry finally said. 

“Good. I’m glad. Let me know if you need any help.”

“I can do it.” 

Sam shifted a little. “I know you can, Henry.”


	21. Some Power Requires Control, Some Requires Collaboration

“What’s that you’re working on?”

Sam didn’t pause in his spellwork. It was very delicate. “What do you think it is?” And why in the world did Henry feel entitled to bother him with it?

“Looks like a collar.”

“Huh,” Sam said. There was a clatter of dishes in the corner and he tried to ignore it. Todd was training the new servant boy, Derek. Sam reminded himself that if he killed every new servant boy who annoyed him, he’d have an endless succession of new servant boys to put up with. “I guess eyesight is all it’s cracked up to be after all.”

“You know, I think you making jokes is actually scarier than you trying to be threatening.”

Sam grunted. Henry had been taking that conversational tone with him a lot more since they’d had sex the other day. “I don’t try to be threatening. It’s not my fault if people are threatened by me.”

Henry made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a scoff. “No, I guess it’s not. What’s the collar for?”

Sam frowned when a metal cup hit the floor, letting out a patient sigh at Derek’s whispered apology. “What would you do if I said it was for you?”

“What would you do if I laughed at you?”

Something had definitely changed in Henry lately. Sam didn’t answer for a second, listening to the two in the corner. He wondered if they were friends or if Todd was just putting up with Derek. He wondered if he tried to hurt Derek, if Todd would offer to take his place or let him do it. He had a feeling he knew. “It’s for stopping a practitioner from using his magic,” he finally said. “The spells I’ve got on Hans’s wizard require a lot of attention from me. This wouldn’t.” He smiled. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m making the spells, so they won’t work on me, and I’ll have the key to open them anyway.”

Assuming Sam could do them properly. They were complicated and he was figuring them out as he went. 

“You’re going to collar Hans’s wizard?” 

“Among others,” Sam agreed. “Eventually we’ll find Saul and Sarah.”

“How do you know they won’t be happy you killed Solomon? Maybe they’ll work for you,” Henry suggested.

Sam snorted. “You haven’t met them. Sarah used to practice spells on me and Saul liked to move furniture around when I wasn’t in rooms so I’d walk into things. They both liked to pretend to read books to me and make everything up so I’d look stupid when I repeated it later.”

“So they teased you as a kid, and now you want revenge?” Henry asked, not sounding impressed. “That’s it?”

Sam scowled, his power reacting to that jibe. He had to fight down the surge of it that came with the flash of frustration, crawling up his arms like termites. The stone pulsed in his pocket. “You say that like it’s a bad reason.”

“To kill your only living family?” Henry asked, letting out a breath. “I guess not.”

“There is my sister Sylvia,” Sam said quietly, ignoring the few memories of her that surfaced. “She might be alive, unless dad managed to kill her without telling me.” Which was totally possible. 

“You liked her.”

“I was young when she left. I remember her being nice to me. It doesn’t matter; if she’s smart she’ll never come back.”

“Would you hurt her if she did?” Henry asked, voice a little quieter now. 

Sam had to push back another ripple of power, the corresponding throb from the stone making it harder. “I don’t know,” he said honestly, and then clenched his jaw when he heard another dish fall. “Learn to keep your hands steady or I’ll cut them off,” he snapped.

“I’m sorry, your Majesty…” Derek’s voice squeaked, trembling. 

Sam balled his hands into fists, trying to push back his power again. It pushed against him, pressed, pulled, tore up and down his body, wanting to be released, and it was a fight to keep it in check. The stone pushed with it, longing to be used, to tear something apart, to destroy. 

The furniture around Sam rattled, and the air started to smell like smoke.

_No_ , Sam thought, using everything he had to keep his power in check. It was _his_ power, it was going to do as _he_ wanted. He was the master here, not the other way around. 

Derek whimpered a little in the corner, and Sam hissed a little from the effort of not boiling the blood in his veins. “Get out,” he said. “All of you, now.”

Todd whispered something and two sets of footsteps rushed for the door, which opened and, after a pause, shut again. “You too, Henry,” Sam ordered, annoyed that he had to say it twice. 

“Since when are you afraid to hurt me?” Henry asked, still sitting in his chair from the sounds of it. 

“I’m…ah!” Sam doubled over, a wave of power sweeping over him that sent a field of electrified air through the room. Henry grunted in discomfort or pain, but he didn’t get up. 

“ _No_ ,” Sam said, clenching everything, pressing the power down, putting it back in its place. It fought, but it went, and a moment later it quieted, leaving Sam panting in the chair. 

Henry had the sense to stay quiet until Sam had recovered something resembling composure. “What was that?”

“That was me being pissed off,” Sam growled.

“I thought you had your powers under control,” Henry said, cautious. 

It annoyed Sam that he’d been that obvious, but Henry wasn’t going to tell anyone, he figured. How he knew that, Sam wasn’t sure. “I do. But sorcery is a power that wants to be used, and it’s something that needs to be contained. The stone makes that harder. It’s not a problem.”

“Hm,” Henry said. “You just shook the room by mistake.”

“It happens.”

“What if it happens again but worse?”

“Then Derek will die before he can drop another cup,” Sam snapped.

Henry took in a breath. “He’s scared. He’ll get over it. Is there nobody you can ask for help? Other sorcerers?”

Sam snorted in derision. Too familiar. Henry was getting too brave. “Ask someone weaker than me for help? Even if I wanted to, Solomon was sure to cut ties with all the other clans, and they wouldn’t know what to do with the stone bound to them anyway. The only person with experience with a stone is…”

“Jocelyn’s son?” Henry asked, when Sam didn’t finish speaking. 

“Maybe I should…” Sam trailed off again, thinking. “I have to take his stone from him. Maybe I should pay him a visit.”

He wasn’t going to ask Jocelyn’s son for help. But maybe if he got a sense of how he controlled his stone, Sam could learn something. 

“Are you going to kill him?” Henry asked.

“I don’t know. Depends on how it plays out,” Sam muttered, still thinking. 

“Just that he’d be a useful friend to have.”

“And a dangerous enemy, I know,” Sam said, sighing. He hadn’t forgotten Jocelyn’s comment about him shaking the cosmos. Sam figured the son was about as powerful as him, but with the benefit of experience letting him have greater control over the stone. Not someone to be afraid of, but not someone to pick a fight with unnecessarily, either.

“He might agree to help you if you offer him his mother,” Henry suggested. 

Sam frowned. “When did you get so invested in all this?” Henry wasn’t wrong. Sam wasn’t used to Henry not being wrong. 

Henry was quiet for a while. “That’s a good question.”

Sam smiled now. “I’ll need to do a divination spell to find his exact location in that forest. Then we’ll pay the little witch a visit.” 

Between that and Henry’s new attitude, Sam was in a much better mood all of the sudden.


	22. Ambushes Are Dangerous because They Can Go Both Ways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second half of the much-awaited crossover event.

“Are you nervous?”

Sam sighed, listening to the thrum of the teleportation circle he’d drawn up in an empty room. “No, of course…”

“Of course I’m not, stop being an idiot, Henry,” Henry said, interrupting him. “I know. You look nervous.”

Sam paused, wondering at what had just happened. He should be furious that Henry was mocking him. But he…wasn’t. “I should tear your tongue out for that.”

“Are you going to?”

Sam turned to face the spell circle. “No. I’ve…never left the castle before.”

Henry’s silence was palpable. “Never?”

And that tone of voice, disbelief laced with pity, was exactly the reason Sam had never told Henry that. “Solomon wasn’t exactly in a hurry to let everyone meet his broken youngest son.”

Henry was quiet for another minute. “Are you just going to stand there?” Sam demanded.

“You should go,” Henry said. “Outside. Take a tour of the Plateau. It’s your kingdom. You should get out to experience it, at least once.”

That was the stupidest thing Sam had ever heard. “Why would I do that?”

“Because it would do your subjects good to know that you’re a real person who they don’t want to piss off, not just your asshole guards.”

“I’m sure they know that. They can’t be that stupid.”

“You’d be surprised. People don’t believe something is real until they see or hear it for themselves. Meeting you would remind them to stay in line.”

Sam had to admit, Henry wasn’t totally wrong. Something that was getting more common lately. “I’ll think about it,” he said, taking a breath. “After I get back.”

“After we get back?”

“Did I stutter?”

“You’re not going there by yourself, Sam.”

Sam sighed, turned back to Henry. “Of course I am. What the fuck do you think you’re going to do?” He didn’t know when in the planning of this Henry had decided he was coming, but it was annoying. Sam didn’t need a babysitter.

“Stop you from tripping over a tree root?” Henry suggested. “I have a feeling you wouldn’t like that much. Bad first impression to make.”

“Be that as it may…”

“What, do you think I’m going to try and stop you? After all this time, you still don’t trust me, Sam?”

“Stop interrupting me!” Sam snarled, raising his voice a little. “Stop. You’ve been doing that too much lately. Forgetting yourself.” Forgetting who Sam was.

It was a different quiet, this time. “I’ll be more careful.”

“Yes, you will.”

“You haven’t been punishing me.”

That was a stupid thing to say. “Do you _want_ me to?”

“No. I’m just saying, you haven’t been hurting me lately. Made me wonder if you’d moved the line when I wasn’t paying attention.”

Sam wanted to ask what line Henry was talking about, but he had shit to do and so he just pretended he knew, stepped into the spell circle. “I haven’t. Get in here.” 

Henry did as he was told, quietly stepping up beside Sam.

“If you make me look like a fool…”

“I know.”

Sam let his power go, activated the teleportation spell he’d set up to the woods. It should be accurate to within a few dozen feet of the centre of Jocelyn’s son’s little temper tantrum from a while ago. 

The world crashed away as Sam and Henry teleported, leaving them in a state of disassembly as they tore through nothing, hurtling at top speed through a void, through a lack. There was no sound, no sensation, nothing, but still Sam was Sam, and he knew he was there, and he didn’t like it. He’d never teleported before and hadn’t realized it was this bad.

The whole point of teleportation was that it was instantaneous, but it felt to Sam to take a whole lot longer than that. Every time he thought it must be over, he was reminded that time no longer existed and that everything about them was gone right now. 

There was nothing here, but suddenly Sam felt a wall. Or a hand. Keeping them in place. They were still moving, screaming through emptiness forever, but something was stopping them from getting to their destination, a power foreign to Sam, but one he knew, one he recognized, one he’d felt before.

The world snapped back as he realized that, and Sam was hit with more disorientation than he’d ever had in his life. Which was due in part to the lack of ground beneath his feet. Before he could even process anything around him, Sam fell, fell into cold and current.

His power reacted, trying to blow his attacker away, an explosion of rushing water filling the air, but it didn’t work, the water kept coming, and Sam…

Henry’s hand was on Sam’s arm, pulling him. Pulling him up, above the water. “Fuck. You okay?”

“What the hell?” Sam demanded, panting for breath. The water was still rushing past his chest.

“We’re in a river,” Henry told him, also panting. “In the woods, there’s a house just there.”

Oh. Sam tried to calm down, tried to force his power back into submission. “Right. Okay. That will be where he lives.”

“Yeah.” Henry tugged at Sam’s arm, getting him to walk. Sam tripped over a stone and Henry helped him keep his feet, wisely not saying anything. “This was a bad place to set us down,” he said. 

“I didn’t fucking pick it,” Sam snarled. “Not like I knew what the area was like. And there was a…wall, or something.”

“Like a shield?” 

A ward. Sam should have fucking known there would be a ward. “Yes. It knocked us aside a bit, I think. He must have put it up to protect himself. Fucking asshole. We weren’t supposed to land in the fucking river. Probably did that on purpose. I’m going to fucking…”

“Sam,” Henry interrupted, as they got out of the water. He squeezed Sam’s arm as he spoke, and his tone was worried all of the sudden. 

Sam paused in his tirade, listened. He could hear wind, birds, plants rustling, water roaring. He couldn’t feel any magic that would suggest that a witch lived nearby. Just a strange buzz in the air. But Henry’s tone was enough to tell him that they weren’t alone. 

Sam straightened, trying to pretend he wasn’t soaking wet from having just teleported into a river. “Watch out,” a male voice called out, loud enough to be heard. “That plant there will trap you if you’re not careful.”

At least one of them knew what the person there was talking about, because Henry pushed Sam slightly to the left. Either towards the dangerous plant or away from it, Sam had no way of knowing. 

“This isn’t how I’m used to receiving visitors,” a quieter voice said. He sounded uncertain, maybe to hide fear. 

This was James, Sam figured. He should have been able to tell a magic practitioner this close, even one using a different power. But Sam didn’t feel anything coming from the person in front of him. Maybe it wasn’t James after all. Maybe these were his servants or something. 

Henry gaze Sam a squeeze that made Sam realize he’d been standing there without answering. “No doubt,” he said. “Are you Jocelyn’s son?” The easiest way to find out was to ask, and Sam had decided, as much as it pained him, that he had to be polite for this. Just in case.

“Yes,” the quiet voice said, quieter now. “Who are you?”

So this _was_ James. Unless he was lying, but Sam had a feeling he wasn’t. Maybe he wasn’t as powerful as advertised. Maybe that outburst before had all been the stone, and James himself wasn’t anything worth noting. Sam smiled. “My father was friends with your mother.”

“Solomon.” James’s voice was a whisper. “You’re Solomon’s son.” He definitely sounded afraid now. Henry had gone still beside Sam. Sam was just trying not to shiver. 

“That’s right,” Sam confirmed, wondering if James would do something stupid with that information. Part of him hoped so. “I want to talk to you. I think we have some things in common.” It would be easy, now that he knew how powerful James wasn’t, to just kill him. And Sam was thinking about it, just putting an end to a potential problem right now. 

There was a moment of quiet, which Sam didn’t blame James for. He probably knew his life was in the balance here. “Okay. You look cold. Why don’t you come inside and we can have some tea to warm you up?”

Sam scowled. He could hear James and the other person, his servant, walking away. “Are you okay?” Henry whispered to him. 

“Fine,” Sam said, still considering. “He’s weak. I could kill him.”

“He can’t help you if he’s dead.”

Sam considered that too. “I guess.” He sighed, set off to follow. “I don’t think he’s powerful enough to have done what happened here. I wonder if it was someone else after all.” One of those other witches Joceyln had mentioned, maybe.

“I don’t see anyone else around,” Henry told him, as they started walking. Sam found he didn’t hate Henry’s hand on his arm as much as he thought he would. If they were in front of people who mattered, that would be one thing. But here in the middle of nowhere, it was fine. “It’s just a garden and a small house behind a big wall of tree roots.”

Tree roots? “Guess he’s scared of intruders.”

“I guess.” Henry fell quiet, and a moment later they stopped walking. 

Sam heard a door open. “Come on in. Ron, why don’t you stay out here with Sam’s friend and show him around?”

Sam wondered what that was about. Maybe he didn’t want his servant to see him in case he had to beg for his life. It was a prudent decision. 

“Sure.”

“I don’t…”

“It’s fine, Henry,” Sam interrupted, gesturing to shut Henry up. He put his hand out, found the doorframe, and took a step inside what smelled like a not very clean house. Henry sounded worried, but it wasn’t like he had any cause to be. Unless he thought James’s servant was going to hurt him, but that wasn’t Sam’s problem. 

Besides, he knew Henry would be fine.

He took a step into the house, heard footfalls behind him, and the door shut. “There’s a chair about three paces in front of you,” James said quietly from behind Sam. It seemed he said everything quietly. 

Sam took those three paces, felt around. There was indeed a chair there, and he sat in it, finding the table easily enough after that. It was all made from rough wood by the feel of it. “Thank you,” Sam said, remembering to be polite. Just for fun. 

“I’ll make us some tea,” James said, moving through the room, and Sam heard him clattering things about for a second. “The river’s not warm at this time of year.”

“Then you shouldn’t have dunked me there,” Sam said. James would pay for that.

A strange silence. “I didn’t. You weren’t very careful in your choice of landing point. But it’s hardly your fault when you’ve never been here.”

Sam was fairly certain that James was lying, but he let it go. For now. “I hope I didn’t scare you by appearing suddenly.”

“No,” James lied, coming to sit at the table without tea. The kettle must be boiling. “Only surprised. You said your father and my mother were friends. Are they not anymore?”

“Not since my father died.” Sam smiled, and he had to keep himself from laughing into James’s quiet. 

“You killed him.”

It wasn’t a question. “Yes,” Sam answered. “I did.”

“Where’s my mother?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said, and it wasn’t a lie. He didn’t know where Jocelyn lived. “But she visits the castle every so often still. She wants to work with me the way she worked with him. She talks about you sometimes. You know she wants to kill you, right?”

“I know. She wants…”

“The stone.”

“Yes.” James got up, and he clattered around again. The kettle was whistling. “What happened to your father’s?”

“I have it,” Sam told him, fingering it in his pocket. 

James didn’t say anything else until he was back at the table, setting a cup in front of Sam. “It’s hot. You have no intention of returning it, do you?”

Of course Sam didn’t have any intention of returning the stone to the other sorcerers. Even if it weren’t his, he’d never do that. Stealing it was probably the only wise decision Solomon had ever made. “It’s bound to me,” was what Sam said instead of that. The longer he played the polite kid, the more likely James was to tell him something useful. And this was what he’d come for.

More silence. James communicated in those as far as Sam could tell. It was obnoxious. 

“Do you want sugar?” 

He was changing the subject to give himself time to think. “No.” Sam sipped the tea, wincing when it was hot. 

“You were right, we do have some things in common,” James said, and Sam heard him tapping what sounded like his finger against the table. “What do you really want from me?”

“This is good tea,” Sam said, because two could play at the changing the subject game.

“Thanks, I used a poison you can’t taste, otherwise it mars the flavour.” 

Sam choked, nearly dropping his cup immediately, power running up his spine as he…

“A joke,” James said, sounding like he was laughing. “Not a good one. Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Nothing scares me,” Sam assured him, deciding he was done being nice. If James was going to mock him, he was going to show James which of them was in charge here. Sam’s power skittered up his body, clawing its way forward, prepared to lash out.

And then it stopped. Something closed over him, gently like a blanket, and Sam’s power wasn’t blocked so much as it just…fizzled out, suffocated. It had nowhere to go, and it receded, quiet. Sam frowned, felt the stone in his pocket, pulled through it, forcing his power back into the air, towards James.

It happened again, that sensation of being drowned out. He couldn’t use his power, he couldn’t get a grip on it. The buzzing feeling in the air, the one he felt everywhere, it was interfering with his power, as if it were somehow stronger than him. But that was impossible. James’s power was so weak Sam couldn’t even feel it from three feet away. There was no way he…

Sam suddenly realized why he couldn’t feel James’s power. It wasn’t because it was small. It was for the same reason that a fish didn’t know the shape of the ocean. 

Because it was huge, and he was floating in the middle of it.

Sam sat there, struck, not sure what to do or say or…anything. From outside, he could hear the sounds of swords clashing. “Sounds like Ron and your Henry decided to have a contest,” James said, sipping his own tea. “I don’t understand the sword thing, myself. They always want to know which of them is better. I mean, unless they’re planning to attack each other, why does it matter which of them is stronger, you know?”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, finding his voice. He sounded quieter than he usually heard himself. He wished he could say he didn’t know what to do, but what really made him hate this was that he _did_. “It’s a waste of time, but as long as they’re having fun, I guess.”

“Mm.” James didn’t sound sure, but that was all he said on the subject. “How long have you been bound to the stone, Sam?”

“A few months now,” Sam said, hating how small his voice felt. How small he felt. He hadn’t felt like this since he’d killed Solomon.

“And you deal with it okay? It was hard for me, the first little while.”

“It’s fine,” Sam said, swallowing. “I control it fine.”

“Okay,” James said, and Sam had no idea what that meant. “I realized about a half-year in that it can’t be about control. The stones are…not sentient, but something. They’re difficult to control, maybe impossible. I realized I could fight it my whole life and not control it. So I learned to work with it instead, guiding rather than pushing. Like a conversation.” A pause. “But that’s just me. If you’re not having any trouble controlling it, you probably don’t need to hear me ramble. I hardly use the thing anyway, it’s in a drawer somewhere.” He said it like a joke.

Sam had his stone, and he’d been using it. James’s was in a drawer somewhere, and he hadn’t needed it to effortlessly eclipse Sam’s power. And he said it like a joke. 

“If you want,” Sam said, to say something, to show he wasn’t afraid, “I could give you your mother. I could trap her next time she’s at the castle and bring her here.”

James reached over and picked up Sam’s fallen teacup, the sound suggesting he was moping up the mess with something. “That would be helpful. I need all four of them, though, not just mom. My father and brother and sister as well.”

“I’ve never met them.” Sam wasn’t sure how he’d trick Jocelyn into bringing her whole family to the castle without her catching on and disappearing. 

James made a noise and sat back in his chair. “And what would you want in exchange for bringing them to me?”

Sam was a little surprised that James was agreeing so readily. He was more bloodthirsty than he seemed in his stupid little cottage. Sam smiled. “Cooperation.”

“With what?”

“My efforts to undo what Solomon and your mother were trying to do,” Sam told him. 

James was quiet again for a second. Living with him must be the most obnoxious thing. “They wanted all the stones,” he said, and again it wasn’t a question. “But between your family and mine they can only use three of them at most. What about the other two? They had friends among the wizards and mages.”

James was smarter than Sam had thought. “They had friends everywhere.”

“Everywhere?”

“As far as I can tell.”

“Including on the Grand Coven of Witches?”

Sam had no idea, but he wouldn’t be surprised. “Yes.”

“Okay.” James was tapping something against the table. 

“The friends all think I’m carrying out Solomon’s plans,” Sam continued. This had worked on Henry, it would probably work on James too. 

“And you can’t risk betraying them all by yourself,” James finished. “I understand.” He said it in a patronizing way, like he understood how weak Sam was. Sam wasn’t weak. “No wonder you look so tired. You don’t sleep well, do you?”

Sam paused, trying to figure out what game James was playing now. “No,” he admitted, not sure why. “It doesn’t matter.” He almost wanted to tell James about the creature that had visited his bedroom, but he wasn’t going to do that. Either James would know what it was or he wouldn’t, and either way it would make Sam seem like a coward.

“Nightmares?” James guessed, getting up. He clattered around for a bit, came back and set what sounded like a bag on the table. “Boil some of this in tea before you go to bed and drink it. Just a tiny bit. It helps.”

Sam was absolutely not going to drink some cursed concoction given to him by a witch. “Thank you,” he said, taking what turned out to be a thick pouch and slipping it into his wet pocket. “I should get going. I’m sure you’re busy.”

“Not really. You could stay for supper if you like.”

“No.” Sam stood, pulling the chair out of his way. He felt like he was suffocating. “Thank you for your time.”

“Anytime. I look forward to seeing you again, Sam.” James stood as well, and he followed Sam the three steps to the door, something wooden thumping on the floor as he moved. Sam wondered if he was supposed to feel threatened by that comment. 

Because he did. 

“Henry,” Sam called, when he stepped outside. He didn’t hear swords ringing anymore. 

“Here,” Henry called back, from somewhere off to Sam’s right. 

“We’re leaving.” He hoped he didn’t sound too rushed. He could feel James standing beside him, part of the buzz that was ambient in the area. Sam had no idea how he’d been so stupid. It was so obvious that James’s power was everywhere. 

“Okay.” Henry said something else, quieter, to James’s servant. 

“Looks like they became friends,” James commented as they said their goodbyes for far too much time. He shouldn’t have let Henry be alone with either of them, should have insisted on Henry coming inside with him. But then he would have been there when James humiliated Sam.

“Good for them,” Sam muttered. “Henry doesn’t have any of those.” Maybe they’d decided on something. Maybe Henry had told James’s servant something important. Fuck.

A moment later he heard Henry approach, and Henry’s hand was back on his arm. “You got what you needed?’

“Yeah, let’s just go.” Sam tried not to growl as he pulled Henry away from the house.

“Nice to meet you, Sam,” James said from behind him, mocking. “Come back sometime.”

Sam waved a hand and teleported himself and Henry away. 

That same sensation of travelling through a shattered nothing, but for much less time this time, and then they were back in the castle. 

Sam snarled wordlessly and shoved Henry away, stalking out of the spell circle and putting his hand against the nearest wall, leaning there and just…breathing. His power was running amok, trying to be used after that period of being untouchable. 

“Sam…”

“Don’t!” Sam held up a hand, keeping Henry away. “Just…don’t.” Under his hand, the stone wall was shaking; he could hear it cracking.

Henry didn’t, and Sam stood there for a good minute, wrestling himself into submission. His power, the stone, ached to be tossed out, to destroy something, to kill Henry, to do _something_ other than put a hole in this stupid wall. But he couldn’t, he wouldn’t do that. So he pressed it down, forced it to be quiet, until he was sweating from exertion but finally victorious over it.

The fact that Henry had seen the whole thing was…frustrating, but less so than it might have been some other time. “Don’t tell anyone about this,” he warned, taking his hand away from the crumbling stone.

“I know,” Henry said. “You know I won’t.”

“I don’t know that,” Sam snapped. “I don’t know who you’re talking to when I’m not there.”

“Hardly anyone,” Henry said, moving closer now. “Most of the castle is afraid of me, because I live with you and I’m still alive. If I told them about stuff like this, that you were human and had regular human problems, they wouldn’t be afraid of either of us anymore, and then where would we be?”

That was stupid, but if it was really how Henry thought, Sam wasn’t going to complain as long as it kept him in line. “I…” Sam choked a little. “I was wrong. He was more powerful than me.”

“By a lot?”

“By too much,” Sam whispered, trying to comprehend he magnitude of what James’s power must have been. “Way too much.”

“Hey,” Henry’s hands were on Sam, and before Sam knew it, he was being pulled into Henry’s arms. “It’s okay.”

“What the fuck is this?”

“It’s called a hug.”

“I know what…” Sam let out an irritated breath. Henry’s arms were warm, wrapped around him, and Sam was still a bit cold, so he let them stay there for now, using Henry to warm up. 

“I know you’re not scared,” Henry told Sam, holding him. “But I’m the coward here and I am. That much power in one person is scary.”

Henry was offering Sam an out, offering him a way to have this conversation without admitting to being afraid. Because he knew how Sam felt about being scared, he knew how angry it made Sam, and he didn’t want Sam to get angry and take it out on someone. It was patronizing and offensive.

“I was scared,” Sam said quietly, realizing he was shaking a bit. He wasn’t sure why he admitted that except that he knew he could, because it was Henry, and if there was one person in the world he could admit this weakness to, it was the person holding him right now. He had broken Henry enough that Henry wouldn’t do anything with that, wouldn’t use it against him. That was all. “I was scared of him, Henry.”

Henry was quiet, holding Sam tighter. “You’re safe here.”

Sam wasn’t so sure, but he nodded, bringing his arms up and hugging Henry back. “I…he didn’t threaten me, really. He didn’t try to intimidate me, or do anything that suggested he wanted to hurt me. I tried to kill him in his own damn kitchen and all he did was take me by the fucking hand and put my power to bed without saying anything. Just kept having a normal conversation while he did it. Even Solomon never did that—even when he ignored me, I always knew it was on purpose, to make me upset. It wasn’t even that with James. I wasn’t even worth his time and he knew it.”

His cheeks were wet. Sam was fucking _crying_ about this. 

“So you didn’t make friends with him, then?” Henry asked, voice soft.

Sam gasped out a laugh. At least one of them was focused. “I got him to agree to cooperation on some bullshit idea of dismantling my father’s plans in exchange for his family. He wants all of them.”

“Something else you two have in common,” Henry joked.

Sam snorted. “I’m going to kill him. I can’t let someone that powerful live.”

“How?”

“I don’t know yet. But I am.” Sam would never be safe as long as someone like James was alive. Especially now that James knew who he was. That had been a mistake, he should have stayed away. He managed to slow his breathing, to stop his tears. “Okay.” He pushed Henry away, wiping his eyes. “Okay. I’m okay.”

“Okay,” was all Henry said.

Sam considered him. “I’ve killed everyone who’s ever been with me when I was scared,” he said. 

Henry didn’t answer immediately. “You going to kill me?”

“No.” Sam tugged at his wet shirt. He wanted out of these clothes. He didn’t want to think about why the answer was no, about why Henry was different. “I want a bath.”

“Hold on,” Henry said, grabbing Sam again. Before Sam could ask, Henry wiped at his cheeks, at his eyes. “There. As long as nobody looks close, you can’t tell you were crying.”

“Are people in the habit of looking closely at me?” Sam asked, wondering why Henry had done that, and wondering if that was something else he didn’t want to think about the answer to. 

“No. Let’s go.” Henry’s footsteps moved for the door, and Sam followed him, oddly wishing he could have Henry’s hand on his arm again. 

“What did you and James’s servant talk about, or did you just hit each other with swords?”

“The forest, and James, mostly. How we’d gotten where we are now. I didn’t tell him anything about you.”

Sam decided to believe that for now. It was easier. “Could you beat him in a real fight?”

“Yes. I had to hold back on him a little.”

“Good.” Sam was starting to feel more normal. 

“Sam?”

“What?”

“It makes you scarier.”

“What does?”

“That you’re human. That you can get scared. It makes it worse that you normally don’t.”

Sam felt warmer all of the sudden, and he lengthened his stride to get ahead of Henry. “If you’re going to say stupid things, at least let them make sense, Henry.”

“I’ll try harder,” Henry said, following after Sam. 

Sam walked faster, but only enough that his back would be to Henry. Not so fast that he’d lose Henry.


	23. Coping Mechanisms Vary in Scope and Effectiveness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of the wake of the last chapter, Sam is very unhappy. And we know what happens to other people when Sam is unhappy, so read with caution for rape and torture in this chapter.

“Can Derek walk across a room yet without pissing himself?”

Todd’s surprised squeaks whenever Sam addressed him never stopped being annoying. “N-no, your Majesty. I mean…he’s still scared.”

Sam sighed, tapping a finger on the table as Todd took away the dishes from lunch. Henry had gone off somewhere, and Sam was bored. Bored and wondering who it was that Henry was off talking to. 

He’d forbidden Derek from coming back in his rooms until he could carry a tray without clattering it everywhere. Sam was trying very hard not to kill him and Derek had been making it very hard not to want to. 

“Sniveling coward,” Sam muttered. “He hasn’t even been given a real reason to be scared. I’d say that fucking him a few times ought to knock that out of him, but it doesn’t seem to have cured you.” Though, Sam thought, Todd could at least pour water without spilling it. 

Todd squeaked again. “S-so you do plan to…”

Todd didn’t sound very upset by that. Sam smirked. “Plan to what, Todd?”

“To…to r-rape him,” Todd said, voice cracking.

“Yes,” Sam said. “I like raping people. I get to fuck someone and hurt someone at the same time. Two of my favourite things. And it’s an easy way to remind someone I’m in charge.”

Todd just made a stupid noise, and Sam smiled. “Raping cowards is especially fun. Speaking of which, get over here. Pants down.”

With a whimper, Todd complied, his footsteps dragging a little. But he stopped beside Sam’s chair, pants hitting the floor. Sam stood up. “And that’s what I mean. Knowing that you’re going to come over and do as I say even when you know what’s going to happen is a great feeling, Todd. That’s what power is. Open my pants.”

Todd did as he was told, hands shaking a little. “Pull it out.” Todd did, freeing Sam from his smallclothes. “Get it wet.”

Todd dropped to his knees, taking Sam into his mouth without hesitation. He sucked on Sam, used his tongue, wetted every part of Sam he could reach. “That’s enough,” Sam decided, before he changed his mind and ended up fucking Todd’s face. Not that that didn’t have its appeal. He’d kept his hands at his sides the whole time, not even touching Todd. “Up. Turn around.”

Todd stood, and Sam listened to his shuffling. He stepped forward, found Todd with his legs spread, leaning against the table. Sam smirked, lined himself up. “Coward,” he said, ramming himself in. 

Todd cried out, but not as much as before. He was getting used to having cock up his ass, seemed like. That was good, because he was going to have a lifetime of it if Sam was any judge. Someday when Sam was bored with Todd he’d find a man with a big cock who would get a lot of use out of Todd. Sam pushed Todd down until his face was pressed against the table, thrusting into him happily, the table scraping the floor as he moved. 

“Tell me,” Sam grunted, after a good minute. Todd had fallen silent. “If I gave you the chance to switch places with Derek, would you?”

“Yes…” Todd’s answer was immediate. “Yes.” He sounded like he was holding back tears.

Sam smirked, gave a hard thrust. “Even if I promised to hurt him worse than this?”

“Still…”

“Good answer,” Sam told him, panting. “Not stupid.”

Cowardly, but not stupid. 

He didn’t stop fucking Todd when the door creaked open, when Henry’s footsteps came into the room with a sigh. “Sam…”

“There you are,” Sam picked up speed. “Hey, do you want a turn?”

“What? No.”

“Hm.” Sam stopped, hand on the small of Todd’s back. Todd made another stupid sound. He had a whole arsenal of those. “I’ll stop. Fuck him, and I promise not to for two days.”

He’d fucked Todd every day this week. There was an appeal that before had only been there intermittently. 

“No.”

“Three days?”

“I’m not raping him, Sam.”

Sam snorted. “Fine.” He picked up his thrusting again, holding Todd in place as his orgasm built. Henry didn’t try to stop him, just went and sat on the bed. Sam had made it clear that he was going to do this regardless of what Henry said or did or offered. 

Sam came, digging his fingers into Todd’s sides as he filled him up. Then he pulled out, content, and stood there. “Clean me up,” he said to Todd, grinning when Todd got back on his knees and licked his cock clean, putting it back into his pants at Sam’s order. 

“Get dressed and get out. I’ll eat supper in the dining room tonight.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” Todd said in a small voice. Everything about him was small, weak. He pulled his pants up, shuffled to the door.

“Todd?”

A squeak. “Y-yes, your Majesty?”

“Aren’t you going to thank me?”

Silence, for a second. “Th-thank you, your Majesty,” Todd whimpered. 

So annoying. Sam headed for the bed. “Same time tomorrow, Todd.”

The door shut behind Todd, and Sam giggled as he fell onto the bed beside Henry. “God, he’s so…stupid.”

“Stop hurting him.”

“No. I like hurting him. Almost as much as I like hurting you. Which reminds me, I was thinking earlier I wanted to break your fingers. Give me your hand.”

“I know what you’re doing,” Henry said, putting his hand in Sam’s. Sam almost giggled again. Power.

“What am I doing?” Sam asked, stroking Henry’s hand, gripping his index finger.

“You’ve been hurting Todd, doing stuff like this to me, ever since we visited James.”

Sam pulled back on Henry’s finger until it cracked. Henry shouted. “I’ve been hurting people since long before then.”

“You’re…” Henry’s voice gritted through the pain. He’d developed a tolerance for pain. “You got scared because James was stronger than you. So you’re hurting people who are weaker than you until you feel strong again.”

Henry screamed as Sam broke his second finger. “Maybe,” Sam admitted. He hadn’t thought of it that way. “Or maybe I’m just reminding you that I’m in charge here, since you’ve started talking back and acting all familiar. You can’t stop me from hurting you, or Todd or Derek or anyone else in this castle.”

“Maybe that’s all it is,” Henry managed. He broke off again at the third finger, and Sam only waited long enough for him to finish to break the little finger too. He gripped Henry’s thumb. “But you…don’t have a solution to your James problem yet, do you?”

Sam snapped Henry’s thumb back. “Other hand.”

Henry’s broken hand was removed and replaced with an unbroken one right away. Sam smiled. “You’re so obedient.” He broke the thumb first this time. “If I let you switch places with Todd, would you?”

“No.”

Of course. “What if it was Cole instead?”

“No,” Henry hissed. “I’ll hurt Cole.”

“You’re taking your time.”

“You said…” Henry took a break to scream again. Sam moved to his middle finger. “You said whenever I wanted.”

Sam wondered what he was waiting for. He broke the middle finger with a nice crunch, kept moving. “Up to you,” he said. “Where have you been?”

“In the…ah!” One finger left. “In the training yard. P-practicing.”

“With the guards?” Sam asked. “Making friends?”

“No. They hate me.”

That, at least, Sam believed. He broke Henry’s last finger, dropping his hand on the bed. 

“You might be right,” he said, once Henry was done yelling. “Maybe I’m hurting you to make myself less afraid. Maybe that’s why I’ve always hurt people.” Mostly, Sam thought it was because he liked hurting people. “I’m not going to stop, though.”

“How does it help you figure out how to beat James?” Henry challenged in a pant.

“It doesn’t.” Sam pushed Henry back, straddled him. He ran his healing magic up Henry, repairing all the damage to his hands. Henry sighed. “It’s something to do until I figure that out.”

“I’ll help you figure it out,” Henry said. “You don’t need to…”

“Why’d you go to the practice yards?”

“To…practice.” Henry was hesitant, searching for the trap. 

Sam leaned down, stroked Henry’s face. “You left me here, knowing Todd was going to be here and that I’d hurt him. You’ve been practicing a lot lately, too.”

Henry was quiet for a second. “We both have ways of dealing with stress. I can’t stop you from hurting Todd, so at the very least I don’t want to watch it happen.”

“Hm.” Sam sat straight. “If you’d made sure he wasn’t here, I’d have fucked you instead. And you know that. After the second day, you stopped trying to protect him.”

Sam didn’t really care that Henry was a hypocrite. He was just curious to hear his justification. 

“You taught me to fight battles I can win,” Henry said quietly. “You want to hurt him so you’re going to. I’m not going to help you do it.”

“You will, someday,” Sam promised. He hadn’t expected that Henry would take him up on his offer to fuck Todd today. But someday he would. “Hand.”

Henry gave it to him, and Sam started feeling his unbroken fingers again, selecting one. “I won’t,” Henry said. “I’m not going to rape someone.”

“Even if I say I’ll give him to the guards? All of them?” He’d thought about that, on occasion. Just for fun. 

“No. Because you’re bluffing.”

Henry said that so confidently. It was annoying, because he wasn’t wrong. Sam wasn’t actually intending to do that. “You know me too well.”

“Of course I do,” Henry said. “You’re my only friend.”

Sam snorted, squeezing Henry’s hand. “I’m happy to hear you say that.”

“Happy enough not to break my fingers again?”

“No.” Sam smiled. “But happy enough not to make you talk to me while I do it. Scream for me, Henry.”

Over a backdrop of cracking bone, Henry did.


	24. Kings Are Unused to Being Talked Back to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a moment in this chapter that is extremely satisfying for me.

“Three men tried to desert from the guard last night,” Lowell reported, hopefully finishing out what had been a very boring hour. Sam knew why he had to waste his time doing things like this—because it was his castle, and he needed to know what was going on in it, so Henry had convinced him—but it was so _boring_.

“Tried? You caught them?” Henry asked, tapping his finger on the table. 

“Of course we caught them. They’re in the dungeon.”

“Obviously the penalty is death,” Cole said, voice grating on Sam. He was Lowell’s second in command after the mysterious death of his predecessor, which wasn’t that mysterious. Sam wondered if Lowell was worried yet. “But they knew that going in and weren’t discouraged. I suggest something a little stronger to deter others.” 

“Torture them, then,” Sam said, waving his hand. “Do it in the yard where everyone can hear them scream.”

Maybe he’d even help, just for variety.

“Yes, sir,” Lowell said, but Cole wasn’t done.

“I was thinking something stronger than that, your Majesty,” he said. “I think we should bring in their families, really remind people why working for you is a lifetime job.”

Sam smiled. Sometimes he remembered why Cole was useful. “Do it. Don’t lay a hand on the three of them until they’ve watched every minute of their punishment.”

“Don’t do that,” Henry said at Sam’s side, sounding exasperated. 

“Can do, your Majesty,” Cole said. “Got a lot of good ideas. A few of the hunting dogs I took with me out east know some…fun tricks.” 

“Sounds good, maybe I’ll come listen,” Sam said, wondering if those tricks were what he thought they were. “Make them participate, too. Pick who goes first, rape one person to save the others, that sort of thing.”

“Sam.”

“I want everyone to watch at least part of it,” Sam went on, choosing to ignore Henry for now. “Make it very clear what the punishment for disobedience is.”

“All over it, your Majesty.”

“You don’t need to do any of that,” Henry persisted. “Just execute them. Torture them if you really have to, but that’s enough of a deterrent. There’s no need to hurt their families, God.”

“Hurt your family,” Cole said, tone sneering. “And now here you are, loyal as can be. Seems to me like it works wonders.”

“Lowell, control your hyena,” Henry said, voice stiff. 

“That’s enough, Cole,” Lowell said, and Sam wondered when he’d started taking orders from Henry. “We’ll do as his Majesty orders.”

“No. Just kill them.”

“Are you his Majesty now, Henry?” Sam asked, leaning back, voice low. 

Henry let out an agitated breath. “No. But…” He cut himself off from whatever he’d been about to say. “Guys, give me and the king a minute.”

“You know, his Majesty has a point,” Cole said. “You don’t give orders around here, you’re just the king’s bedboy.”

“Get the fuck out before I throw a bucket of poisoned meat scraps in your kennel,” Henry snarled.

A chair scraped. “Don’t,” Cole said, hands hitting the table, “touch my dogs. And don’t threaten what you can’t follow through on, boy.”

“Do what I fucking tell you and I won’t need to threaten.” Henry’s voice was level. “I’ve been on the receiving end of Sam for most of a year. You think I’m afraid of _you_? Get over yourself, you tiny piece of birdshit.” 

Hearing Henry talk like that was…impressive. Sam was impressed. “Get out,” he said to the two of them. “And you’d both do well to remember that Henry is my right hand.”

Silence for just a second. Lowell cleared his throat. “Yes, your Majesty. Cole.” 

“Yeah,” Cole growled, pushing the table as he turned to leave the room. A moment later, the door slammed. 

“I should reward you for putting Cole in his place like that,” Sam mused, stretching. “Though eventually you’re going to find your balls and put him in the ground, right?”

“You need to stop,” Henry said. 

“Are you sure you don’t need help? He’s not that good a fighter, but if you’re scared…”

“Sam.”

“I wouldn’t hurt him, but I could stop him from moving so he’s less of a threat to you. You could…”

“Sam!” Henry hit the table, making a loud noise. Sam jumped in spite of himself, and the lamps rattled as his power reacted. “Listen to me. You need to stop acting this way now.”

Sam snorted. So it was one of those days, where Henry tried to make him a better person. “Sorry, I forgot that today was the day I was supposed to start handing out flowers in the courtyard. Fuck off, Henry. I’ll do what I want.” Sam was the king. That meant he could do whatever he wanted to whoever he decided deserved it. Sam stood. “And I don’t appreciate you raising your voice at me.”

Henry’s chair pushed back and Sam felt him there, in front of him. “I’m not telling you to become a monk and heal the damned sick, Sam. I’m telling you that you need to stop letting the fact that you’re scared dictate everything you do.”

“I’m not…”

“Todd?” Henry asked him. “Me? Those maids that you cut open in the hall yesterday for talking too loudly? The painter who you made paint with his own blood until he died? Now these three? It’s childish, Sam.”

Sam bristled. “Childish? You think I’m a child, Henry?”

“I think you’re acting like one. I think you need to sit down and think about your problem instead of lashing out at all of us all the time. I think you need to act like a king instead of a scared little boy.”

A cold fury swept through Sam, and he took a step forward, pushing Henry back. “You’re lucky I don’t give a shit what you _think_ , Henry,” he spat. “I will do whatever I want to whoever I want to do it to and your opinion is irrelevant. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but everyone in this castle calls me ‘your Majesty’ because I’m the fucking _king_ , Henry. If I want to make those three deserters watch while their little brothers and sisters get raped to death by dogs, then that’s what’s going to happen. If I tell you to hold the damned kids down, that’s what’s going to happen. If I…”

It was so fast, so sudden, that Sam didn’t know what had happened at first. His face hurt, and he staggered sideways, and…

Henry had slapped him in the face. 

Sam straightened, facing Henry, power roiling, cascading into the room. “I’m to take that hand apart in tiny, tiny little pieces and you’re not getting it back,” he whispered, furious. He’d never been this angry. 

“Go ahead,” Henry told him, just as even as when Cole had threatened him before. “Do it. You’ll prove me right.” 

Sam paused, fully prepared to lash out, to disintegrate Henry, to destroy the room, to…

Henry was right. If Sam hurt him now, all he’d be doing would be playing into Henry’s game. Sam had let himself get trapped. 

“What’s the matter?” Henry challenged. “I’m holding out my hand. Don’t you want it, your Majesty?”

Shaking like a leaf, Sam took a step back, fell back into his chair. “You’re going to regret this,” he told Henry. “I’m going to make you regret this.”

“Yeah,” Henry said, his own chair scraping as he sat as well. “I know. But doesn’t the fact that I knew that, and did it anyway, tell you that this is important?”

“I…”

“Sam.” Henry’s voice was gentle now. “When you act the way you’re acting, all it does is make people want to run away. If nothing else, your guard needs to be loyal to you, not just scared of you. What if they all decide to desert? Or worse, what if they all decide to mutiny? Are you going to torture all of their families?”

“Yes,” Sam said stubbornly, though he knew he wasn’t going to. Suddenly he felt like that child Henry was accusing him of being.

“And then what? Be king of ghosts? It’s fine for people to fear you, but if they think you’re unstable, they’ll never respect you and they’ll never stop fighting you. The people of the Fury Plateau need to understand that your kingship is the best thing that’s ever happened to them.” When Sam didn’t say anything, Henry continued. “And people like Lowell and Cole need to see a king who knows what he’s doing, not one who they know is easily distracted by the promise of screaming.” 

“I know what I’m doing,” Sam insisted, but it sounded hollow. He didn’t. He hadn’t known what he was doing since that shadow monster had come into the bedroom. 

“Fine, but it doesn’t seem that way based on how you’ve been acting. You’re hurting people so you can pretend that James didn’t scare you.”

Sam smacked the table, which splintered under his power. “I just…hate it. I hate how weak I felt, how powerless I was.”

He never should have told Henry that he’d been afraid. But now that he had, it made it easier for Sam to talk about this now. 

“Yeah,” Henry said, reaching out and taking Sam’s hand off the table. The power coursing through Sam had to sting when Henry touched him, but he showed no sign of it, just went about picking splinters out of his hand. “It sucks. But if I can do it, so can you.”

“It’s…” Sam started to say that it wasn’t the same, that Henry had never been powerful, never been strong, so having that taken away from him was nothing. It wasn’t the same. But the words died on his tongue. “You shouldn’t care so much,” he muttered.

“Well, I do.” 

Why? Sam wondered. “You’re an idiot.”

“I know.”

“Shut up and let me finish. You’re an idiot, but you’re not wrong about this. Tomorrow I’m going to finish that magic collar. If it’s strong enough, that should block James’s powers.”

“Then we just have to put it on him.”

“Yeah,” Sam muttered, taking his hand away from Henry, shaking it out. “There’s…” He hesitated. “Something I want to tell you about. But not now. Remind me in a few days.” He wanted a few days to calm down, to think about how to tell Henry about the shadow. 

“Okay,” Henry said, standing. 

“After I’ve punished you.”

“Okay. I’ll remind you after I recover from that.”

Sam smiled. “It might be a while. I’m really pissed.”

“I know. Slapping you was kind of fun.” Henry’s hand touched Sam’s cheek lightly as he said that.

Sam snorted. “Don’t make things worse for yourself, hm?”

“I’d do it again.” The hand retreated.

“Say that after I’ve finished with you.”

“Big talk,” Henry teased, as if Sam were joking about torturing him. He had to know Sam wasn’t. 

“You’re going to regret it,” Sam promised, moving around the table and towards the door. “And the fact that you’re not terrified is a sign that your mind is breaking under the strain.”

“Yeah,” Henry said, quiet. “I know.”

Sam snorted, put his hand on the handle.

“But what does it say about you that you let me talk to you like that?”

Sam paused for a second, and he didn’t have an answer to that. So he didn’t answer, pushing the door open and stepping out into the hall. “Torture the deserters,” he said to Cole and Lowell. “Publicly. Use your dogs if you want. Don’t touch their families, it’s not worth the hassle.”

“Your Majesty, I…”

“That wasn’t a suggestion, Cole,” Sam said as he walked past him. “If you can’t do it, turn in your uniform and I’ll find someone who can.” 

“Y-yes, your Majesty.”

“Thank you, your Majesty,” Lowell said, and Sam made a noise as he went. He could practically feel the weight of both their gazes on Henry as he came out of the room behind Sam. A trap, everything about this had been a trap. Just because Henry was right, didn’t mean it wasn’t a trap. 

Henry was going to regret everything about that conversation.


	25. It Is Questionable Whether Disproportionate Punishments Really Deter Bad Behaviour or Just Engender Resentment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a particularly brutal chapter even for this story. I know some people read this one because they're reading the rest of the series and feel like they should, so I just want to warn now that the torture and rape stuff is more more graphic and awful than usual in this chapter. Please take note of the updated tags as of now for more info.
> 
> I promise there's a narrative reason why this is happening, but because there is a narrative reason why, I'm planning to provide a non-graphic summary of this chapter at the start of the next chapter for anyone who feels they have to give this one a pass.

Sam hummed to himself as he crouched in front of the fire, warming his knife until the metal was hot enough that his hand started to burn even through the leather grip on the handle. Then he stood, crossing the room with the hot knife, and sat on the bed beside Henry. “Did you miss me?” Sam asked, free hand running up Henry’s thigh. 

“Knife’s going to get cold if you sit there and chat,” Henry said, voice hoarse. 

Sam made an agitated noise, found Henry’s balls and squeezed them. “You know,” he said conversationally, “your attitude is the reason why you’re here. Maybe you could work on it a little.”

And before Henry could answer, Sam pressed the knife against Herny’s sac, smiling at the sound of Henry’s scream, the smell of singed flesh rising a little through the sweat and blood that filled the air already. 

When the initial scream ended, Sam pulled the knife away with a tug, taking a layer of skin with him, and he grazed it down the inside of Henry’s thigh, playing around the edges of Henry’s hole, not penetrating him—he’d done that earlier, it had been fun—but just reminding Henry that it could be worse. “I just don’t understand why we’re back to having the conversation about why you should be nicer to me. I thought we were past this.”

“You…” Henry broke off, whimpering. “You don’t want me to be nice to you. You’d be bored.”

That was true. “I do want you to stop acting like you’re enjoying this. It’s meant to be a punishment.” Sam wasn’t even mad at Henry for the way he’d spoken the other day anymore. What he really wanted to do was get a sense of where Henry was, what his limits were now, how broken he really was. Pain had a way of bringing out the truth from people. 

Henry made a pained sound. “You think I’m enjoying this?”

“I think if you have the energy to snark at me, you aren’t hating it enough,” Sam said, taking Henry’s cock in his hand and running the tip of the knife up the underside. He stopped at the head, tapping it with the knife. 

“Do you want me to beg?” Henry asked. “I will. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Sam said thoughtfully, still tapping the knife. “You know, I’ve always wanted to give you a scar, something that won’t heal.” He pinched Henry’s foreskin between his fingers. “In some places, they cut the foreskin off when you’re a certain age. Maybe I’ll take yours off. A nice reminder for you of where you belong.” 

“I know where I belong.”

Sam slashed Henry’s thigh with the knife. Henry cried out. “Don’t talk back.” 

He put the knife back where it had been, wiggled it to make a small cut. “I don’t really know how they do it,” Sam said, carefully slicing along the bottom of the head, feeling his way as Henry bit back shouts. “So I’ll try my best to…fuck.” Henry had moved, making his cock shift and Sam’s hand slip, slicing nearly half the head off as Henry sobbed in pain.

Sighing, Sam took the whole bloody mess in his hand and used his healing spell. When he removed his hand, Henry’s cock was intact again, foreskin and all. “You are going to have to hold still,” he said. “I’m committed to doing this as many times as it takes to get it right, but I do want the rest of you to be in once piece.” Sam did like this part of Henry.

Breath coming in harshly, Henry managed to say, “I’ll try.”

“You say things like that and then wonder why I think you’re enjoying this,” Sam said, sighing as he got up again. “I’m heating up the knife.” He could easily do that with his magic, but it was more fun to make Henry wait while he did it. 

Sam didn’t think Henry was having fun, not really. He knew Henry didn’t like being tortured, but it was clear that what Sam was doing—and had been doing for a few hours now—wasn’t good enough. Henry had gone past the point where physically hurting him, even maiming him, was enough to get the reaction Sam wanted. Real torture was in the mind, and pain wasn’t getting through whatever barrier Henry had managed to build for himself. 

Fortunately, Sam knew Henry very well, and he knew what would get through that barrier. And it was on its way here any time now, if he was measuring right. 

It was two more trips back and forth, four more attempts to take Henry’s foreskin without destroying his cock, all failed, before Sam heard it. He was warming the knife in the fire again, just about to get up and go back to Henry, find out how those three stab wounds in his gut—the product of Sam’s frustration at failing—were doing and if they needed healing before trying again, when a soft knock on the door heralded the fun part of Henry’s punishment. Sam smiled, not answering as he crossed back to Henry. 

The door clicked open, and almost immediately Sam heard one of Todd’s annoying noises. “Oh.” He already sounded like he wanted to die. “I…I’m sorry, your Majesty. I thought…I’ll come back…”

“No.” Sam sat down beside Henry, this time resting the knife over one of his eyes. As Henry screamed, Sam smiled. “Get in here, Todd.” He healed the bleeding wounds in Henry’s belly as he talked. Couldn’t have him passing out. 

The door closed, and Todd’s panicked breathing filled the air, though it wasn’t louder than Henry. “Henry, tell Todd why I’m punishing you.”

“Because you’re a fucking psychopath.”

Sam jammed the knife into Herny’s eye, leaving it there. He could hear Todd whimper, and nothing was even happening to him. “Henry, tell Todd why I’m punishing you.”

“For talking back to you,” Henry choked. “For slapping you.” 

“For disrespecting me, but close enough.” Sam ran a hand down Henry’s chest, turning in Todd’s direction. “But I’m feeling generous. Tell you what. I’ll swap you for Todd.”

“No.”

“I’ll heal you and let you go,” Sam said, ignoring that. “And your punishment will be over. And I’ll torture Todd for half an hour. Just half an hour, instead of the rest of the day.”

“No,” Henry repeated, voice cracking as Todd whimpered near the door. “No. Hurt me, leave him alone.”

Sam sighed, but that was what he’d expected. “Okay,” he said, taking the knife out of Henry’s eye. He’d heal it later. “Todd, don’t you want to save Henry? Repay him for all he does for you?”

“N…no…please…”

“Switch places with him for half an hour, save him six hours of this.”

“Sam…”

Sam ignored Henry. “What do you say, Todd? Up to you. If you say no, I’ll respect that.”

“I…I don’t want to…please don’t hurt me…” Todd was already crying. Sam hated him. 

Sam snorted, tapped Henry’s cheek with the knife. “See what your nobility gets you? You sacrifice yourself for him, he sacrifices you for himself. Fucking coward.”

“It’s…” Henry paused, taking deep breaths. “It’s the same thing you’d do.”

“Excuse me.”

“You’d sacrifice me for yourself too.” 

Sam went cold. “Oh, see, I was going to rape him and let him go. But just for that I’m feeling mean. Todd, clothes off, get over here.”

Todd’s breath hitched. “Y-yes, your Majesty,” he breathed, and Sam heard him approach. 

“Sam, don’t,” Henry said, more worried now. “No, please. That’s not what I meant, Sam. I swear that’s not what I meant, don’t do this.”

Sam slashed Henry’s throat, cut him off in a burble as he tried to breathe. Tood whimpered. Sam waited a second, then another, then put his hand over the wound and healed it. Henry coughed up blood, taking in hacking breaths as he recovered. “Shut up,” Sam told him. “What the fuck’s taking you so long, Todd?” Sam was already hard in anticipation. 

“S-s-sorry, your Majesty…” Todd said, obviously already crying as he climbed onto the bed, stopping a good foot away. 

Sam reached out and grabbed the first part of Todd he could reach, which was his arm, and he pulled Todd over with a yelp, and tossed him on top of Henry. Todd seized up, trying not to go there. “No, no…”

Sam cut his arm with the knife, twice. “Every no gets you a cut.”

“Sam, don’t…”

Sam slashed Todd again. “Every no from Henry gets you one too.” 

“Sam!” Henry bucked up and hit the bed hard in frustration. He’d probably have tried to physically do something if he weren’t tied to the bedposts. 

Sam cut Todd again, and tossed him on top of Henry so they were belly-to-belly Todd sobbed, but went where Sam put him this time. 

“The thing, Henry,” Sam said, licking his hand, then using it to slick his cock up as he got on his knees, “is that hurting you doesn’t seem to be getting my point across. But hurting someone else…” he lined up, shoved himself into Todd in one motion, gave Todd a cut when he cried out. “Even if it’s a useless sack of shit like Todd, hurting someone else because of you is a more fitting punishment, isn’t it?”

“Please, just…” Henry stopped when Sam raised his knife again. “Do it to me,” Henry pleaded.

“Oh, I’m going to,” Sam promised, as he started thrusting roughly into Todd. “But you need a little reminder that you aren’t the only one you’re protecting.” 

Sam fucked Todd into Henry, cutting him every so often when he felt like it, or when Henry was getting too vocal in his complaints. While he did that, though, Sam did something else as well. He reached down with his free hand, finding Henry’s thigh, and, concentrating as best he could in this state, ran magic into Henry to jump his libido. Todd made a very peculiar sound as Henry got hard underneath him, and Henry’s breath picked up as he tried to keep quiet. 

With the spell going strong, Sam took his hand off Henry and pushed Todd down, grinding him against Henry’s cock as Sam pounded him harder. Sam was so worked up and so, so happily anticipating what was about to happen that he came quickly, pressing the flat of the knife down on Todd’s back as he filled him up. 

Sam grinned, pulled out. “This is what happens to other people when you mouth off, Henry, got it?” 

“Got…got it..” Henry’s voice was cracking. He was taking this a lot harder than he’d been taking his own torture. “I won’t do it again, Sam.”

“I believe you.” Sam’s hand wandered down between Henry’s legs, found him hard. “Liked that, did you?” he asked, as though surprised. 

“No…”

Sam gave Todd a slash, then another one when he didn’t like the noise he made. He pulled himself out of Todd, and grinned. Sam pushed Todd up a little, taking Henry’s cock to line it up. 

“Sam, Sam,” Henry said, voice a near panic. “No. Please. Please, don’t. Please, Sam…”

“You’re the one hurting him, Henry,” Sam said, holding in a giggle. “Not me.”

And he pressed Henry into Todd’s hole, pulling Todd down to get it inside. Todd cried out, a choked sob tearing from his throat, matched by the one Henry let out. Sam pulled Todd to a sitting position, with Henry inside him. “This is what happens, Henry, when you piss me off. Ride him.” He hit Todd with the knife.

Todd didn’t move. “Sam…” Henry whimpered, pathetic. 

Sam gave Todd another cut, then, taking his own erection in hand, he looked around for Henry’s entrance. “Here, something you’re used to,” he said, pressing in. The position was awkward and this angle, but he managed it, helped along by Henry bucking his hips up at the initial penetration, either from pain or thanks to the libido spell, Sam didn’t know. 

That got a motion going, forced a cry out of Todd and made him move too, and Sam wrapped his knife arm around Todd, fucking Henry and setting the pace for all three of them while keeping the point of the knife on Todd’s belly. Sam’s own movements pulled Todd back and forth, not giving him the option of stopping even when Henry went still. Both of them were crying, Todd more loudly than Henry. 

Keeping his hand on Henry’s thigh, Sam put power into the libido spell as he sped up. “Henry’s liking it inside you more than he lets on,” Sam told Todd, having fun. “Sure you can feel that. Not that I blame him, you were pretty much made for cock. It’s all you’re really good for.” Sam grunted as he kept going. 

Henry’s noise got louder and louder and Sam had an idea why. He finally outcried Todd as he came, tensing everywhere as he let out a pitiful sob that filled the air. Todd was crying too, an endless whinge. 

When Henry finished, panting, whimpering, Sam pulled Todd off, pushed him off the bed, heard him hit the floor with a thunk. “Fuck off,” Sam said, adjusting his position now so he could fuck Henry better. “Come back at dinner.”

“Y-yes, your Majesty…” Todd whimpered, picking himself up, but Sam didn’t even listen.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” Sam asked, fucking Henry harder and harder. “You liked being inside Todd like that.”

“No…” Henry insisted, voice quiet. “No.”

Sam didn’t break the libido spell just yet. “Yes you did, you pervert. Say you liked it.”

“I didn’t!”

“You liked raping him.”

“I didn’t!” Henry shouted, voice cracking again. “I didn’t rape him,” he insisted. “I didn’t. You did. You raped him.”

“Hm.” Sam smirked, felt himself getting close. He gave a last few hard thrusts, came inside Henry with a grunt, pressing the knife against his chest as he did. He pulled out, lay beside Henry on the bed. “That’s one way to think about it.”

Henry just took in a breath, crying quietly. 

Sam heard the door close as Todd finally left, and for a while he lay there on the bed, recovering. When he was good, he sat up, gently touching Henry, who recoiled from him. “Now, where’s the smartass I had on this bed an hour ago?”

“Hate you…” Henry breathed, breath hitching. “Hate you.”

No, he didn’t. “Causing you pain doesn’t impress upon you the gravity of what you’ve done,” Sam told him. “Next time you pull something like you did before, it’ll be Todd tied to this bed, understand?”

Henry was quiet. Sam dug the tip of the knife into his elbow. “Understand?”

“I understand,” Henry quivered, voice tiny.

“Good.” As a reward, Sam put his hand flat on Henry’s chest, ran healing power through his whole body. He was happy with this. He was happy with the way it had turned out, but he also didn’t want to subject Henry to too much more of the mental torment for fear of breaking him completely. He’d still come back from this, Sam was sure. “Don’t worry, even if it doesn’t work, I’m still going to hurt you plenty. There’s a lot of day left and I still have a part I want to cut off.”


	26. Like Anything Else, Conspiracies Are Sometimes Unraveled with Sudden Breakthroughs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is the non-graphic summary of the last chapter:
> 
> Sam punished Henry for his indiscretions, which involved lots of time with hot knives. He planned to circumcise Henry in order to leave a scar that won't heal. And then Todd came in and Sam raped him, and then used the libido spell on Henry and got Henry to violate him as well. Bad times were had by all.

“I have to say,” Jocelyn said, as Sam led her to the dining room. “It’s a nice change to have the king always come up and get me in person. Your father never did that.”

“Maybe he was just afraid of heights,” Sam said, though he was pretty sure that wasn’t why. It was because Solomon had had Sam and his siblings to send up—other sorcerers who Jocelyn couldn’t overpower and who were replaceable if she did. Sam only had Henry. 

Jocelyn laughed. “Then what was he thinking building his castle on the side of a mountain?”

“Maybe he was an idiot,” Sam muttered. Henry moved ahead of them and pulled a door open, letting them into the dining room, where supper had been set out for them. Henry had been very good about doing what Sam wanted—quietly—in the last little while. “Have a seat, eat.” 

“Why, thank you,” Jocelyn said. The two of them sat, and she clinked some dishes. Sam let Henry get his food for him, then Henry sat with them. “I do hope it’s not poisoned.”

“Poison is a coward’s weapon,” Sam told her. “If I wanted to kill you I’d use magic or something sharp.”

“Duly noted.” With a pouring of wine, Jocelyn prepared to eat. Sam picked up his fork as well, not waiting for her. “So what brings you to summon me today, your Majesty?” Jocelyn asked, in that almost mocking tone she always used. 

Sam didn’t answer immediately, collecting his thoughts. He’d brought her all the way here. He’d seem like an idiot if he didn’t say it. “I went to see your son a while ago.” 

The movement of Jocelyn’s dishes stopped, her end of the table going quiet for a moment. “Did you now?” she asked after that moment, fork moving on her plate. “How is he doing?”

“He seemed fine to me,” Sam said, putting some meat into his mouth and chewing. “He wants to kill you.”

“No doubt.” 

“He doesn’t seem very smart,” Sam continued, swallowing. “I tricked him into thinking I was some poor soul trapped in my father’s evil legacy and that I need help escaping it.”

“Hm…” Jocelyn thought about that for a moment, then she let out a laugh. “Did you? That sounds like the sort of tripe he’d fall for.” 

“He told me he’d help me if I brought him you and your family.” 

The silence returned. Sam reached for his cup, sipped some wine, tried not to make a face. Why did people like wine? “Of course,” he added, after a moment. “I have no reason to actually do that. I was just telling him what he wanted to hear.”

“Well, I’m pleased to hear you don’t plan to sell me to him.” Jocelyn’s voice was even. 

“Not at all. I intend to kill him as soon as I can.” 

“Oh, that’s reassuring,” Jocelyn said. “Someone has to and I can’t.” 

“You can’t?”

“Well, if you’ve met him, I’m sure you’ve noticed he’s somewhat more powerful than I am,” Jocelyn said. “In fact, you’re the only person I can think of who might be able to overpower him.”

 _Fuck_. If their plan was going to involve Sam overpowering James, that was going to be a problem. He tried to keep himself under control, clearing his throat. “Why’d you piss him off so much if he was so powerful? Keeping him on your side would have been smarter.”

“No kidding,” Jocelyn drawled. “I assumed he’d do as I told him. I was wrong. Much like your father was wrong about you. The difference being that James was too much of a coward to kill me when he had the chance.” 

Sam sighed, leaned forward on the table. “Well, we’ll make him regret that, won’t we?”

“Yes. If I may make a suggestion?”

“Go ahead,” Sam said, wondering what on the table smelled like that. It wasn’t strong, but it had a nice smell. He bet it tasted good. Hopefully Henry had put some of it on his plate. 

“Lure him here when you want to attack him.”

And let James destroy Sam’s castle? That seemed like a terrible idea. “Why?”

“Because he’s a witch. His power is drawn from the forest he lives in, and especially from his own home. If you went to my house and met him there, you were where he’s at his strongest.”

Sam straightened, feeling lighter all of the sudden. “Bringing him here will weaken him.”

“Yes. Why do you think your father always insisted that I come here? He wasn’t averse to leaving his castle for meetings from what I understand, but he never came to my island. Obviously you’re a much braver king than he was.”

“Obviously,” Sam said, not really listening anymore. Henry brushed his leg under the table, but nothing else. He was remarkably docile the last little while, since Sam had punished him. Sam had expected it, but not to that degree. “Thank you for the advice. It will make my job a little easier.” And if James came here, Sam could set up spells in advance, shields and wards and magic to dampen James’s power before he could even touch it. 

“Will you pay me back by letting me be here when you kill him?” 

Sam only hesitated for a second. “Of course. I’ll let you know when I intend to have him here. I’m in the process of trying to track down Solomon’s other allies.” 

“Any luck?”

“No. He didn’t keep an itinerary,” Sam said. “I’ve been waiting for one of them to contact me, but nothing so far.”

“You got a letter yesterday,” Henry said quietly. 

Sam blinked, turning a little, a scowl on his face. “And you’re telling me now?”

“They only told me this morning.” Henry’s tone was oddly accusatory, and Sam wondered how in the world that could be his fault. “And I tried to tell you this morning. You told me not to bother you.”

Sam remembered that. He’d been working on the stupid magic-blocking collar, which was a lot more difficult to finish than he’d hoped it would be. “Tell me now.”

“It’s not signed. I have it here if you want me to read it to you.”

“Read it,” Sam said, scooping up some more food. 

Henry shifted, and there was a crinkling of paper. “I shouldn’t have had to hear your father died second-hand. The Grand Coven is planning to move against you, but slowly. We should meet, your Majesty.”

Sam waited for the rest, but Henry was done. “That’s it?”

“That’s all it says. It was delivered magically. It appeared on a metal plate in the tower.”

“It was sent by a witch, which I suppose the mention of the Coven makes clear,” Jocelyn said, voice a little dangerous. “So Solomon was working behind my back after all.” 

“I don’t care what Solomon was doing. I want to send a message back to this person, tell them I want them to come here and meet me.” So James had met with all his witch friends, by the sound of it. 

“I’ll write it, but I don’t know how to send it,” Henry said.

“I can help you with that.” Jocelyn paused. “It might, perhaps, behoove you to take a look around your castle, see if you have any other magical communication devices that might lead you to other people your father was friends with. I can help with that too.”

She was right, and she was more qualified to point those out than either Sam or Henry. But that meant trusting her. Sam hesitated again, swallowing. “I can take you to his study, to the tower, to the library.”

“If I see anything interesting, I’ll let you know.”

“If you lie to Sam,” Henry said, voice quiet. “I’ll cut your throat.”

Sam could almost taste Jocelyn’s smile. Maybe it matched his own. He really liked that tone of voice from Henry. “My, aren’t you charming?”

“I try my best.” 

A laugh. “It doesn’t benefit me to lie. I need to know who Solomon’s secret allies were just as much as you two do.”

“Good.” Sam picked up his wine cup again. “Let’s eat, then we can conspire. Once we know who these people are, maybe we can find out what the fuck my father was doing and if it’s worth keeping up.”

“God willing.”

“Someone willing, anyway,” Sam grumbled, taking a drink. This was going to be a long evening. 

He brushed Henry’s leg under the table as he did.


	27. One Person’s Punishment Is another Person’s Bonding Experience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam turns an interesting corner on his path of awfulness. Also shout-out to Folkendefanel, follower on Tumblr who called this storyline ages ago.

“I’m going to try and make an ally of Hans,” Sam said, shifting in his chair. “I think I can.”

“How do you plan to do that?” Henry asked, voice dull. He’d gotten all dull again since Sam had punished him. Sam was wondering if he’d gone too far, pushing Henry too much. He’d expected Henry to have recovered by now. “You kidnapped him and held him captive.”

“I treated him well and only killed his servants when they annoyed me,” Sam countered. “He’s in a nice room and nobody’s torturing him. I made an ally of you with a lot less than that.”

“Okay,” Henry said, sighing a little. “I didn’t say you couldn’t do it. I asked how you would. I’m curious.”

“You’re curious because you want to tell me it won’t work,” Sam grumbled, holding out his hand. “Bring me some water,” he said. Todd was over there somewhere, and he’d brought Derek with him again. Derek was much quieter now that he’d had some practice, though Todd hadn’t let him get near the dishes, so he was over there making the bed. 

They could easily tidy the rooms while Sam was out during the day. But where was the fun in that?

“And you don’t want to tell me because you know that’s what I’ll do,” Henry countered, but his voice didn’t change. “How do you plan to stop him from saying he’ll be your ally and then running as soon as you let him go?”

Hand held out as he heard the water being poured, Sam considered that. “I plan to make him realize that there’s something in it for him if he doesn’t run. And that there will be consequences if he does.” 

“The farther he gets from you, the easier it will be to ignore those consequences.”

“But the closer he’ll get to the throne in Hawk’s Roost,” Sam countered. “Which is what he wants. Or what he will want after I offer it to him.”

Henry was quiet for a bit. Todd was taking a long time with the water, but Sam could hear him coming over now. “He could take it without your help, probably. Hawk’s Roost is far from here. He’d turn on you.”

“I’ll stick a centipede in one of his retainers, obviously,” Sam said, dismissing that. “I’m not an idiot, Henry.” Finally, Todd put the cup in Sam’s hand. Sam raised it to his lips, and heard him hand a cup to Henry too. 

“How does the centipede thing even…Sam, stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Don’t drink that.” 

Henry’s tone of voice had changed. It had gotten sharp, hard. Sam heard him stand up. Todd made a quiet sound. 

Sam lowered the cup, let Henry take it out of his hand. The room was deadly quiet. “Derek,” Henry said. “Come here. Drink this.”

“I…”

“Now.”

With heavy breaths, Derek padded over, not as good at being quiet as Todd was. The water sloshed as Henry handed the cup over. Derek whimpered a little. “Please…”

“Drink.”

Sam listened attentively to the silence that flooded the room. A long moment passed, during which nothing but Derek’s increasingly distressed breathing filled the air between the four of them. Sam didn’t hear him drinking. 

“Stop,” Todd whispered, voice a broken sob. “Don’t.”

“That’s what I thought,” Henry said quietly, and Sam heard the cup thunk against the table, followed by a second as he put his own cup down too. “What the hell were you thinking, you idiot?”

“I…thought…why would you…I thought you’d help…”

“But you poured the poison in the pitcher.” Henry’s voice was very calm, very matter-of-fact. “Not Sam’s cup.”

“I…”

Sam giggled. He couldn’t help it. “Oh, I’ve been waiting for you to pull something like this. You stupid piece of shit.” He reached out and grabbed Todd with his power, pulled him closer. “I was hoping you’d grow a pair someday and try to stab me. Poison, huh? Guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you’d go for a coward’s weapon.” He reached out and slapped Todd’s face, getting a little sob out of him. 

He wasn’t even angry that Todd had demonstrated the audacity. He was just really amused. To acquire poison—and he was going to want to know how Todd had managed that—to wait patiently, to get it in the water without Henry or Sam noticing. He’d really planned this whole thing out. It was funny. 

And now, came the really fun part. Sam grinned. “I’m honestly proud of you for even trying, you know,” he said. “Good for you. But you must have known what the risks were going to be. And you fucked up, so…now I get to have fun. You can start by taking your clothes off, you won’t need those anymore.”

“Sam.”

“Don’t moralize at me, Henry,” Sam said, waving Henry away. “He tried to kill you too. Doesn’t that piss you off? That he’d go through you to get to me? Though I guess that’s your idea of justice too, isn’t it?”

“Of course it pisses me off,” Henry growled. “Mostly it pisses me off that he thought I was stupid enough not to notice.”

“Maybe he thought you’d drink it too, for the greater good.” Sam sneered. “Or maybe he hates you too for what happened last week. You’re not talking him out of a punishment, Henry. Don’t try.”

Todd whimpered. Derek was still breathing heavily, trying not to be there. 

“I’m not.”

“Good.” Sam smiled again, turning back to Todd. “We’ll warm you up. But not for long. You’re going to get every cock in the castle inside you by the end of the night, Todd. And when the humans are done, we’ll get Cole’s dogs, and then you’ll spend some time in the stables with the horses. And while that’s happening, you can decide which part you want me to cut off first. I’m thinking I might go with your tongue.”

“Sam,” Henry repeated, voice insistent. 

“What?” Sam demanded, rounding on him. “This isn’t up for debate, Henry.”

“I’ll do it.” 

Sam stopped short, blinking. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll punish him.” 

Sam was quiet for a second, letting Henry stew. He hadn’t expected that. “You know what I expect done to him.”

“I know. And I’m saying I’ll do it.” There was a quaver, just a small one, in Henry’s voice just then. But he remained firm. 

Sam smiled. “Okay. You’re a lucky idiot, Todd. You’re getting off easy tonight.”

“Not that easy,” Henry muttered. “Get on the bed.”

“No, I…please…”

“Shut the fuck up. Did you not hear Sam just now? Would you rather be gang-raped all night? Get on the fucking bed, you idiot.” Henry was getting heated now.

With a cry, Todd shuffled to do as he was told. 

Sam turned to consider Derek. “What about him?”

“I didn’t…” Derek’s voice was a squeak. “I didn’t know! I didn’t know he was going to…please don’t hurt me…”

“Hm.” Sam wondered. He believed Derek. “Todd, did he know?”

“I…told him before we came here, your Majesty,” Todd managed to say. 

Sam snorted. “Hoping we’ll reduce your punishment by adding onto his? Or do you just hate to be the only one suffering? Don’t worry, Derek, I know Todd’s a liar on top of being a coward. I’m not going to punish you.”

“Than-thank you…”

“I am going to fuck you, though,” Sam added, as an after thought. “Take off your clothes and pull that chair over to the bed.”

Henry and Todd were both going to be busy, after all, and he didn’t want to interrupt that. 

“B-but…”

“The amount you complain is proportionate to the amount it’s going to hurt,” Henry told him. “Just do as you’re told.”

All it had taken was an assassination attempt and suddenly Henry’s position on rape had reversed, Sam thought. He should have orchestrated one on himself ages ago. Sam waited while Derek pulled a chair over to the bed, and by the time he sat down, Henry already had Todd out of his clothes and was climbing on top of him. “You deserve this,” Sam heard Henry say to Todd, and then he heard Todd cry out, stifled a little. 

Sam fished his hardening cock out of his pants, and grabbed Derek’s arm. “On my lap. Now.” He waved, and the bottle of oil he kept near the bed flew over. Sam uncorked it and poured it on himself, yanking Derek into his lap when he wasn’t moving fast enough. 

“Don’t worry,” he said in Derek’s ear, loud enough to be heard over his crying. “You won’t get this often. I have two other people I like better than you. Watch them. Tell me what’s happening.” He searched for Derek’s hole as he spoke, finding it and ramming in all at once. 

Derek cried out, but not as loudly as Sam had expected. Sam had to give him a bit of a smack as he started rocking back and forth. “Talk.”

“They’re…Henry’s, he’s fucking him. Todd’s…crying a lot.”

“Good,” Sam said, picking up to a steady rhythm. He didn’t go too fast. There was going to be a lot of entertainment tonight; he didn’t want to blow too soon. “Keep going.”

Todd cried out again as he said that, and Derek made a choking sound. “He’s holding Todd’s arm behind his back, really far. It looks…like it hurts…”

“It had better,” Sam said quietly. “Is he your friend? Todd?”

Derek just sniffled, moving his head in front of Sam’s chest. Sam gave a hard thrust. “Answer.”

“No!” Derek sobbed, as Sam slowed down again. “No. He…he hurts me.”

“Does he?” Sam was interested now. “Hurts you how?”

“Like…” Another sob. He might actually cry more than Todd, which was impressive. “Like this…”

“Oh, really?” Sam almost laughed. Why he was surprised, he didn’t know. “Todd’s a budding rapist, is he?”

“Every night,” Derek managed, between gasps. “He said…he said it was because you were going to, so…”

“So he wanted to prepare you,” Sam finished, chuckling on Derek’s neck as he fucked him a littler harder, closer to cumming than he expected to be. “I’m sure.”

“It hurts more,” Derek told him. “When he does it.”

Sam laughed out loud. “I’m better at it. Do you like it? Watching this?”

“N…no…”

Sam snorted, and since he could, he cast the libido spell on Derek. “Liar. He’s probably going to be extra-hard on you after this. I’m not going to protect you.”

Sam was learning a lot of things about Todd tonight, and he was liking them. He knew Todd’s type. He’d prey on anyone weaker than him. 

“B-but…”

“If you want him to stop, make him stop,” Sam said, giving a deep push. “It’s your problem, solve it.”

A loud snap filled the air, followed immediately by a louder scream. “What happened?” Sam asked, arms around Derek, gripping the hard-on he now had. 

“He…he broke Todd’s arm…” Derek wept.

“His wrist,” Henry grunted, and Sam could vaguely hear the slapping of flesh as he pounded Todd. Then a loud smack. “Shut up.”

Todd didn’t, but Henry must have hit him again, because he cried out again. “He p-punched him in the head,” Derek reported.

“With those big hands that must have hurt,” Sam giggled, speeding up again. “You’d better break more than his wrist, Henry.”

“Not all at once,” Henry said. “Can’t have him passing out.”

Sam laughed again. He was having fun now. Maybe he should move to the bed so he and Henry could play with their toys side by side.

The room was filled for a while with nothing but flesh slapping, grunting and panting, with crying from Todd and Derek. Sam breathed in the atmosphere, loving it. 

“Going to cum in you,” Henry told Todd, though Sam wondered if it was really him Henry was talking to. “Sam’s right. It’s all you’re fucking good for. Scream.”

That last word was punctuated by another loud crack, and Todd did as he was told, filling the air. 

“His shoulder...” Derek whimpered, tensing up as he came in Sam’s hand.

He didn’t get any more than that out before Sam came too, holding him tight and filling him up with a quiet grunt. He wasn’t as good a fuck as Henry or Todd, but he was passable, and the energy in the room made it better. Oddly, Sam had never felt closer to Henry than he did right now. 

Still holding onto the libido spell, Sam let go of Derek, leaning back and resting his arms on the chair’s. “Keep going,” he said, thrusting up once. “I’ve got more in me. And I know Henry does too.”

And he hadn’t even had to cast any spells on Henry. But there he was over there, still grunting, still moving in and out of Todd hard, heedless of his pathetic crying. There was no sign that he planned to stop any time soon either. 

Sam was so proud. This might just have been the best night of his life.


End file.
